Drummond took up a cigarette and lit it. The city presented a terrible picture of devastation. Sometimes her straying mind would become astonishingly active—embroidering bright and decorative things that she could say to Capes; sometimes it passed into a state of passive acquiescence, into a radiant, formless, golden joy. The thief-taker's throat was bound up with thick folds of linen, and his face had a ghastly and cadaverous look, which communicated an undefinable and horrible expression to his glances. He did his best not to grin. Brendon told him the name of a distant restaurant and sprang in by her side.
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