Her voice recalled him. To O'Higgins—for all his sordid business he was not insensible to beauty—to O'Higgins she appeared to have entered the room with the light. The mortal youth in him, then, was fascinated, the thinker, the poet; from all sides Ruth attacked him, innocently. She breathed into a cloth soaked in rose oil as Sebastian had prescribed, but the smell of roses mixed obscenely with the smell of death and decay, causing her to retch. She, perhaps, displayed herself rather consciously as a fine person unduly limited. . She had Cathy’s predisposition to overweight and her hips were solid and thick under her jeans.
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