All right! I’m off. She had often wondered if Hoddy would ever go back to it. There he paused again, half turning his back and pretending to look for someone among the soldiers on the benches. On one side of the handbill a print of the reigning sovereign, Anne, had been pinned over the portrait of William the Third, whose aquiline nose, keen eyes, and luxuriant wig, were just visible above the diadem of the queen. One particularly humiliating thing came out— humiliating for me. Oh! you haven't got the key—then I must have it, I suppose. For a moment she remained silent. 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 did not occur to her that save for some accidents of education and character they had souls like her own.
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