Ann Veronica said nothing. “Anna!” she repeated. This person, whose age might be about forty, was attired in a brown double-breasted frieze coat, with very wide skirts, and a very narrow collar; a light drugget waistcoat, with pockets reaching to the knees; black plush breeches; grey worsted hose; and shoes with round toes, wooden heels, and high quarters, fastened by small silver buckles. Plote was sleeping or deaf. Now I know that you don’t live as close to the Beck house as you once pretended. Anything in the least irregular is like poison to him.
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