They must have a key. Lucy had passed the house once on the sidewalk, on a rare day when he was shoveling snow. “I won’t go home,” she said; “I won’t!” and she evaded the clutch of the fatherly policeman and tried to thrust herself past him in the direction of that big portal. She tended the twins while the Clotilde was in Sebastian’s private chambers, a place she gave a wide berth. 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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