Ruth could not very well object, since an air of distinction would go with Taber. Meantime the spinsters sought the dining room where tea was being served. At the door to the kitchen, he called out, ‘Pottiswick!’ The old man came out, shoving his chin in the air and glaring. The soi-disant Valade held the centre of the room now, only an uncovered but closed card-table, its surface dusty, between him and the suite at the fireplace. By the time John returned with popcorn and a large Coke, the theater had filled up with high-school kids. If you knew anything about Canton ware, you were, as like as not, sorely tempted to stuff a teacup into your pocket.
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