The silence of Canton at night was sinister, for none could prophesy what form of mob might suddenly boil out. They'll inspect the schooner on the way back," McClintock lied, cheerfully. Little by little the pool cleared, the whims vanished: so that both Ruth and the doctor, by the middle of the third week, began to accept Spurlock's actions as normal, whereas there was still a mote or two which declined to settle, still a kink in the gray matter that refused to straighten out. Why not? Imagine I’ve had a fit of hysteria—and that I’ve come round. Ovarian cancer. God had never answered any of her prayers. But stand by and hear such things said about my late mistress’s daughter, I won’t.
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