He was calling, "Wake up, Leoda! Don't bug cut on us now! Pull yourself together!"
"Damn it, Fill," Hashford said, trying to restrain him, "calm down! You'll shake her to pieces!"
Leoda's head still spun, but the shape of the room was beginning to clear. She was lying on the floor of Freedman's apartment and everyone in his gang was surrounding her, all with expressions of grave concern. She must've blacked out.
Andrea slipped out of the crowd and pulled Leoda up gently, letting Leoda's head rest on her shoulder.
With her hand on Leoda's forehead, she said, "C'mon sweetheart, let's get you to a bed. Somebody," she said to the rest of the room, "get a glass of water and a wet towel, please."
Andrea soon had Leoda on - someone's - bed.
"Close your eyes, dear, and breath deeply," she softly said.
Lying on the bed, collecting her thoughts, Leoda realized how stiff her movements were and how much more grateful of every moment of rest she now was. The realization disturbed her, for it signified how strange her body now seemed to her.
She felt pressure and cool moisture on her face; the wet towel was being gently mopped across her cheeks and forehead. She opened her eyes and began, with effort, to rise.
Andrea slipped an arm behind Leoda's back for support, and said, holding the glass of water, "Here, Leoda, drink this. You'll feel better."
Leoda held her hand out, and completely, for the first time, the state she was in. The skin was dry and discolored. It hung loosely on the bones. It was old.
A cold wave spread through Leoda as she spread her hand across her face and realized she felt the same as she had seen. She began to feel as though she were made of glass, and then she blacked out again....