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. God gives us an equal chance; but we make ourselves. For freedom at least. I thought you understood. And Anna was conscious of a few moments of exquisite emotion. ‘It is Yol—’ She broke off abruptly, her face collapsing into an expression of acute consternation. Bah.
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