But the old mare, freshly arrived, had clothing that was far beneath even the modest standards of the pub. As she appeared to be heading for a booth nearby, Songwell got a good look at what must have once been elegant finery. There were deep tears in the shoulders of her patterned coat, and from beneath it poked white lace cuffs, torn almost to tatters. Slung around her neck was a collar of fox fur which was matted and riddled with mange. She even had a fascinator pinned to her mane, but its feathers had all withered away to the bone.