Whatever anticipation Ann Veronica had formed of this vanished in the reality. For hats that fail and hats that flare; Toppers their universal wear; A man scores always, everywhere. She stood, as it were, directed doorward, with her eyes watching every movement, listening to him, repelled by him and yet dimly understanding. For a time her efforts to achieve a comprehensive concentration were dispersed by the passage of the village street of Caddington, the passing of a goggled car-load of motorists, and the struggles of a stable lad mounted on one recalcitrant horse and leading another.
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