” Ann Veronica had remained standing while her aunt spoke. Here was a poor half-naked creature, with a straw crown on his head, and a wooden sceptre in his hand, seated on the ground with all the dignity of a monarch on his throne. She breathed deeply of the starch of his shirt. He haunted a state between hectic dreaming and mild delirium, and she found herself talking aloud to him. This is simply a chapter of coincidences. She got up, drew up her blind, and stared out of window at a dawn-cold vision of chimneys for a time, and then went and sat on the edge of her bed. .
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