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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. She decided to call in the help of Teddy Widgett, or, failing him, of one of his sisters. "Souls," she answered, drily. A glance down the passage—to see that Roding was not lurking?—and her face came back to Gerald, triumph in her eyes. But if she smiled at all it was with her eyes. Wood's astonishment and displeasure momentarily increased.
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