‘You do not want to be a nun,’ he said now, and Melusine noted with a prick at her senses the irritation in his tone. . 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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