The skirt was full and stiff, and without the least trimming.

Everything was black--hat, dress, gloves--and the effect was of a simplicity and severity so pronounced as to be very striking.
However, around her waist she wore as a belt a thick rope of oxidized silver, while her shoes, or rather walking slippers, were of white canvas.
She belonged to that class of women who are not to know one's last name or address, and whose hate and love are equally to be dreaded.

There was upon her face the unmistakable traces of a ruined virtue and a vanished innocence.

Her slightest action suggested her profession; as soon as she removed her veil and gloves it was as though she were partially undressed, and her uncovered face and hands seemed to be only portions of her nudity.
The general conception of women of her class is a painted and broken wreck.

Flossie radiated health; her eyes were clear, her nerves steady, her flesh hard and even as a child's.