"No fear, Su," he says, smiling for her. "I've slept in far worse conditions than a little friendly light."
He squeezes her knee, then rises and searches out a few hurricane lamps – oil, not electric – and lights them carefully. One he turns down to a warm glow, the flame hardly more than a line that looks more liquid than fire, and carries to the bedside table nearest the side where she'd slept before. Another, he sets on top of the sea-chest in which he keeps his books and more precious belongings; the last he leaves on the windowsill, letting the glass reflect the glow.
no subject
He squeezes her knee, then rises and searches out a few hurricane lamps – oil, not electric – and lights them carefully. One he turns down to a warm glow, the flame hardly more than a line that looks more liquid than fire, and carries to the bedside table nearest the side where she'd slept before. Another, he sets on top of the sea-chest in which he keeps his books and more precious belongings; the last he leaves on the windowsill, letting the glass reflect the glow.