She suffered the ghastliness of dissolution, broken and gone in a horrible corruption.

And he stood and looked at her unmoved.
She strayed out, pallid and preyed-upon like a ghost, like one attacked by the tomb-influences which dog us.

And she was gone like a corpse, that has no presence, no connection.

He remained hard and vindictive.
Hermione came down to dinner strange and sepulchral, her eyes heavy and full of sepulchral darkness, strength.

She had put on a dress of stiff old greenish brocade, that fitted tight and made her look tall and rather terrible, ghastly.