Far away there was the one woman for this boy of mine—some human being who would understand the dear fool better than all the rest of the world. Luck. Yet I fancy that we who have been poor ourselves must be the best judges of the needs of the people. 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. " "What the devil's in the wind now, Captain?" cried Blueskin, in astonishment.
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