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“Why destroy me, child? There are so many secrets I 231 could tell you. And to wish not is useless, because you have told me from when I was a little girl. But—” The tired woman raised her eyebrows in mild protest. "I will administer it. You need only answer me truthfully and you have nothing to fear. This was no night for the indulgence of dreamy musing. 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. And now, Sir Rowland," he continued, turning to the knight, "to our own concerns.
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