“By God!” said Ann Veronica for the first time in her life. He stood up abruptly and went to the window. His shirt was unfastened, his vest unbuttoned, his hose ungartered; his feet were stuck into a pair of pantoufles, his arms into a greasy flannel dressing-gown, his head into a thrum-cap, the cap into a tie-periwig, and the wig into a gold-edged hat. "It is time!" "For what?" grumbled the latter, rubbing his eyes. Hilary Roding was all soldier now, his earlier grievances laid aside.
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