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 was a capital diversion; and as usual the Leatherneck bested the Britisher, in seven rounds. ‘Champion?’ ‘The lad you saw following her.
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