I did what I could to comfort her but she died in terrible pain. It was if the world had blinked out for a moment. It had thrust her back with an undignified scuffle, with vulgar comedy, with an unendurable, scornful grin. Everywhere I went and rapped at a door I found behind it another dreadful dingy woman—another fallen queen, I suppose— dingier than the last, dirty, you know, in grain. The sky beyond was a surreal color of pink that reminded her of the windows she had once been entranced by at the castle chapel, their leaden lines depicting old religious stories and sufferings.
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