CHAPTER XXVII. Thanksgiving Day morning, Shari woke Lucy a half an hour before the sounding of the alarm. "Your boast, you see, was a little premature, Mr. Quarter-staves, bludgeons, brown-bills, lanterns, swords, and sconces were alike shivered; and, to judge from the sullied state of their habiliments, the claret must have been tapped pretty freely. I told you no good would come of it. “Yeah, I know. She was conscious of a ceaseless undercurrent of sound—the guttural Chinese tongue.
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