Even though the individual faces of her audience were not to be singled out, she had been conscious from the first moment of her appearance that something was wrong. The scent of cloying pine dust filled the air as floodlights shone eerily through the jungle gym of new wood. She was trying by some wonderful, secret, and motionless gymnastics to restrain her tears. But where in the world was the girl? A door led to another chamber beyond. A crutch, with a silver handle, stood by her side, proving the state of extreme debility to which she was reduced. “You must play for us again sometime. I followed you in. I heard from David about you only this morning. " "It would be funny—just as a trustworthy Malay would be funny.
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