So she sat on in the waning light. As her eyes became accustomed to the place, she made out the huge Buddha and the many banners that hung from the walls.
As she wondered what they all meant a breeze swept through the temple. Like avenging ghosts the banners flapped in the wind.
All of a sudden she caught the sound of movement. Then she made out the form of some person, perhaps a monk, or a visiting pilgrim, bending before the Buddha.
She had scarcely made this discovery when the person, who was garbed in a long robe, arose, turned about, then began making his way toward the door.
“He’s a monk,” she thought. “He’ll pass close to me and I’ll ask him about the temple.”
As if he had read her thoughts and wished to avoid her, the man turned at an angle, walked a few paces, then followed the opposite wall.
“That’s strange,” she thought. Her friends had visited such temples. They had found these monks most eager to talk, and more eager still to receive an offering.
There was something strange, almost fanatic about the man. He was of ordinary height, but quite thin, and he walked rather clumsily.
“As if he were a little lame in both feet,” she told herself.
In a moment he was gone, and the place, it seemed to her, save for herself, was deserted.