Mary seemed about to get up, but remained in her spot. Thatcher tried to imagine his pretty wife so comfortably seated on the ground, but could not. Beauty had its price. On days other than this one, he’d felt lucky to pay it.
What did Thatcher sacrifice to have a beautiful wife, now that he found Mary Treat, who he apparently truly loves? But on this particular day, he seems to be questioning or regretting that decision-- sacrificing compatibility for mere beauty when his soulmate (Mary) is seated before him.