What sort of a human being are you, anyhow?" Enschede gazed seaward. 3. Her eyes travelled about the room as if in appeal to the very chairs. She tied the obi clumsily about her waist, then gently laid her hand on the bowed head. Without a word or a gesture, the Wastrel turned and staggered forth, out of the orbit of these two, having been thrust into it for a single purpose already described. The foremost, tall, clean-shaven, perfectly groomed, half extended his hand with a smile of recognition. ’ A reluctant laugh escaped him. .
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