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. It seemed to her that it was her duty to get up and clamor to go home to her room, to protest against his advances as an insult. One did not use pistols against a female.
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