He had gone in to dinner rather late, from some idiotic idea of making himself felt, and had sat down by old Miss Parry-Aunt Helena-Mr. Parry’s sister, who was supposed to preside. There she sat in her white Cashmere shawl, with her head against the window-a formidable old lady, but kind to him, for he had found her some rare flower, and she was a great botanist, marching off in thick boots with a black collecting-box slung between her shoulders. He sat down beside her, and couldn’t speak. Everything seemed to race past him; he just sat there, eating. And then half-way through dinner he made himself look across at Clarissa for the first time. She was talking to a young man on her right. He had a sudden revelation. "She will marry that man," he said to himself. He didn’t even know his name.