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. Had it not been for the Plague, she might have had her own babies. That did not sound like the name the young man had offered in the tower of the water-clock. Covering his face with a crape mask, and taking the candle from his associate, Jack entered the room; and, pistol in hand, stepped up to the bed, and approached the light to the eyes of the sleepers. Here they remained till midnight when, calling for their reckoning and their steeds, they left the house.
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