Cold Comfort Farm

“A little later, as she sat peacefully sewing, Adam came in from the yard. He wore, as a
protection from the rain, a hat which had lost—in who knows what dim hintermath of time—the
usual attributes of shape, colour, and size, and those more subtle race-memory associations which
identify hats as hats, and now resembled some obscure natural growth, some moss or sponge or
fungus, which had attached itself to a host.”