I’m in a mess—a nasty mess! a filthy mess! Oh, no end of a mess! “Do you hear, Ann Veronica?—you’re in a nasty, filthy, unforgivable mess! “Haven’t I just made a silly mess of things? “Forty pounds! I haven’t got twenty!” She got up, stamped with her foot, and then, suddenly remembering the lodger below, sat down and wrenched off her boots. " "What!" she exclaimed, staring eagerly in his face. She tried to be casual. It seemed to her that it was her duty to get up and clamor to go home to her room, to protest against his advances as an insult. CHAPTER XIII.
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