She needed a witness, visible and material, to the fact of those former happier conditions; and found it, quaintly enough, in the untidy person and humorous, quarrelsome, brick-dust coloured face--as much of the said face, that is, as was discoverable under the thick stiff growth of sandy hair surrounding and invading it--of the Irish doctor, as he sat by her bed, ministered to and soothed her with reverent and whimsical delicacy.
As long as he was there, her room retained its normal, pleasant and dainty aspect.

All Damaris' little personal effects and treasures adorning dressing and writing-tables, the photographs and ornaments upon the mantelshelf, her books, the prints and pictures upon the walls--even the white dimity curtains and covers, trellised with small faded pink and blue roses--seemed to smile upon her, kindly and confiding.

They wanted to be nice, to console and encourage her--McCabe holding them in place and in active good-will towards her, somehow, with his large freckled, hairy-backed hands.

But let him go from the room, let him leave her, and they turned wicked, behaving as they had behaved throughout the past rather dreadful night and adding to the general chaos by tormenting tricks and distortions of their own.
The beloved photographs of her father, in particular, were cruel.

They grew inordinately large, stepped out of their frames, and stalked to and fro in troops and companies.