His bodily suffering, however, was nothing compared with his mental anguish. " The detective ruefully inspected the scarlet band on his perfecto. “Annabel,” she said, “you are my sister, or I would bid you take the flowers if you care for them, and leave the room. But she did not believe he would do that. It was no use. Her complexion was wan and faded, except where it was tinged by a slight hectic flush, that made the want of colour more palpable; her eyes were large and black, but heavy and lustreless; her cheeks sunken; her frame emaciated; her dark hair thickly scattered with gray. “Turn me. She entered the front hall, formerly magnificent, now faded and dusty, the old wood table waiting for guests who would never come. So, instead, they talked of dancing and what it might mean in a human life.
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