She clenched her hands together and leaned forward in her chair, gazing steadily into the fire. ‘You are not at all stupid. Woof! What a dog. ‘Monsieur Charvill thought perhaps that his daughter would find not a welcome. Capes scored back with an uncompromising vigor that was his way of complimenting her intelligence. Then her white teeth gleamed, and her excuse for remaining any longer before that little marble table was gone. It was a bizarre sight, a miniature manor, replicated fully, walled in gray limestone. She got into rows through meddling with their shoes and tennis-rackets, and had moments of carefully concealed admiration when she was privileged to see them just before her bedtime, rather radiantly dressed in white or pink or amber and prepared to go out with her mother. So, while she watched, distressed and bewildered by her tumbling thoughts, the packet, Canton bound, ruffled the placid waters of the Pearl River.
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