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. Life waits for us. A few minutes later she left the house on foot, and taking a hansom at the corner of the Square, drove to Anna’s flat. “I can survive on my own. You can live just about how you like. Only I’m so incensed with that crazy fool Gerald that—oh, well, never mind.
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