The latch had not fully caught. “God in Heaven, Annabel!” he cried. "But he can't be far off. We struggle against it at first, but in the end we have to submit. 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. There was no other door in it, and Jack therefore struck into another entry which branched off to the right.
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