She spoke in the most detached way of his blindness and the coming ceremony.

Never once, even on the first occasion when I met her--in the hospital corridor--after my return from London, did her attitude vary from that of any kind-hearted Englishwoman who deplores the mutilation of a gallant social acquaintance.

Sometimes I wanted to shake her, though I could scarcely tell why.

I certainly would not have had her weep on my shoulder over Boyce's misfortune; nor would I have cared for her to exhibit a vindictive callousness.

She behaved with perfect propriety.
Perhaps that is what disturbed me.