Slowly and ruefully she realized why marriage was so idealized among her generations of those before her. O'Higgins was all that the doctor had imagined a detective to be: a bulky policeman in civilian clothes. It became suddenly glaringly apparent to her that it was impossible to return fifteen pounds or any sum less than twenty pounds to Ramage—absolutely impossible. She laughed a little bitterly. Her eyes were wide and bright. Her white shirt was mired with a central bloodstain, his pants caked with mud. Her husband had a great deal of respect for Sebastian as well. 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. ‘I will not, if you will assure me that an imbecile is a better marriage prospect than a starving pig. But, in spite of his general insensibility to such matters, Quilt could not help commenting upon the delicious perfume wafted from the numerous flower-beds past which they were driving.
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