Her aunt, a faded, anæmic-looking lady of somewhat too obtrusive gentility, was still sitting with her hand pressed to her heart. If you knew anything about Canton ware, you were, as like as not, sorely tempted to stuff a teacup into your pocket. Just what in the world was that about? Before he could hazard a guess, Lucy looked back at him. He had forgiven everybody. . Spurlock remained where he was until the sail became an infinitesimal speck in the distance.
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