"No, I tell you," rejoined Jonathan, shouldering his way out of the crowd. “Yes, I know. The Jew got in first. It gave him plenty of time to obsess over his random crushes, which worried her. She had been built for canvas and oil-lamps, and this new thingumajig that kept her nose snoring at eight knots when normally she was able to boil along at ten, and these unblinking things they called lamps (that neither smoked nor smelled), irked and threatened to ruin her temper.
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