So, while she watched, distressed and bewildered by her tumbling thoughts, the packet, Canton bound, ruffled the placid waters of the Pearl River. This laughter released something that had been striving for expression—her own natural buoyancy. It seemed to her that her father was in some inexplicable way meaner-looking than she had supposed, and yet also, as unaccountably, appealing. He relayed many details of the location and the beautiful rivers of her home, a subject she never tired of. Miching Mallecho.
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