Suddenly he stopped short. " "Lead the way to it then, Saint Giles," said Jack, in a tone of mock authority. 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. Earles said persuasively. He was in misery; he was paying for last night's debauch.
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