’ Hilary’s jaw dropped open, and he stood stupidly staring, the nun’s clothing dangling from his hand. Or become a thorough-going typist and stenographer and secretarial expert. I wish that it worked. 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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