Under the high roof, lost in a grey cloud, resolving themselves into rows of white, intense faces, sat hundreds of undergraduates.
They were seated on uncomfortable, unstable chairs, and the noise of their uneasy movements sent squeaks up and down the building as though it had been a barn filled with terrified rats.
Far in the distance, perched on a high pulpit, was a little white figure--an old gaunt man with a bony hand and a grey beard.

Behind him again there was darkness.

Only, in all the vast place, the white body and rows of white faces raised to it.
Olva and Bunning found seats in a corner.

A slight soft voice said, with the mysterious importance of one about to deliver an immense secret, "You will look in the Mission Books, Hymn 330.

'Oh! for the arms of Jesus.' I want you to think for a moment of the meaning of the words before you sing." There followed the rustling of many pages and then a heavy, emotional silence.