The reason being? Their ghastly and profound pallor, as though the ghost of a dung heap just ran into the lobby, streaking, and demanded they all hand over their underwear.
Swayed by the compulsion to explain myself I stated, “I, ah, heh heh ... that is, I had an ... an accident.” After that it was all a blur. Some person or another escorted me about by the elbow, gently, introducing me to the persons who were significant enough to be introduced to, whizzing me through the facility while I smiled at times that seemed to me appropriate and, when questioned about any matter, I reiterated the fact that I had been in a grave accident involving two horses, a whip, and a man with a mouthful of glass. This line of conversation does not seem to be quite apropos in hindsight.
One thing that I did
