“Why? Do you think I’m a stoner?” He asked. Elegant, a little scornful, she leaned slightly against the back of a chair and looked him steadily in the eyes. “How unkind!” she exclaimed. Whenever McClintock had guests, he loafed with them on the west veranda in the morning. At the recollection that it was his, she seemed to fall through a thin surface, as one might fall through the crust of a lava into glowing depths. ” “All right. I’ve got imagination. The crowd began to separate as it fell into the theater. McClintock's initial revulsion was natural; he was an honest man. . 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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