It was an irritating fact that in the senior class of that particular Los Angeles high school a Japanese boy stood at the head.

This was embarrassing to every senior.
"I say," said Donald Whiting, "I call that a mean thrust." "I have a particular reason," said Linda.
"And I have 'a particular reason'," said Donald, "for being interested in your shoes." Linda laughed suddenly.

When Linda laughed, which was very seldom, those within hearing turned to look at her.

Hers was not a laugh that can be achieved.

There were a few high places on the peak of Linda's soul, and on one of them homed a small flock of notes of rapture; notes as sweet as the voice of the white-banded mockingbird of Argentina.
"How surprising!" exclaimed Linda.