“And think, think”—her voice sank —“of the horrible coarseness!” “What coarseness?” said Ann Veronica. Puffy blue curtains dressed every oakstained window. It was long and narrow, with a ceiling supported by huge uncovered rafters, and so low as scarcely to allow a tall man like himself to stand erect beneath it. “You have dyed your hair and darkened your eyebrows. Maggot was equipped in a light blue riding-habit, trimmed with silver, a hunting-cap and a flaxen peruke, and, instead of a whip, carried a stout cudgel. She started forward.
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