Will you venture?" "It is a hazardous experiment," said Thames, after a moment's reflection; "but I will make it. ‘I can see why you lost your place, young Kimble. There was enough contra-light to render her ethereal. I'll go alone. All this muddle to placate his conscience! "Here—quick!" McClintock thrust a cigar into Spurlock's hand. 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.
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