Perhaps this was the real turning point: the hour in which the disordered mind began permanently to readjust itself. So, while she watched, distressed and bewildered by her tumbling thoughts, the packet, Canton bound, ruffled the placid waters of the Pearl River. “We are not going the right way,” she exclaimed. Sheila grabbed the gun and laughed hysterically, brandishing the weapon and baying like a bear. ‘And since the entire company and Pottiswick himself were unable to find hide nor hair of the infernal French female—’ ‘English, Hilary,’ Gerald reminded him.
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