“We pretend bodies are ugly. 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's an ill wind that blows nobody good," thought the carpenter, turning his attention to the child, whose feeble struggles and cries proclaimed that, as yet, life had not been extinguished by the hardships it had undergone. She staggered to the fireplace and thrust it into the heart of the dying flames. ‘I assure you it was mutual. ’ Sheer exasperation made Gerald release her as he broke into reluctant laughter. I’m not ashamed—of the things I’m doing. We have that gift. What CAN she put before that?” His voice began to rise.
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