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. They were properly brought up, and sat still and straight, and took the luck fate brought them as gentlewomen should. Hadn’t they settled that already? “I want you as a friend,” he persisted, almost as if he disputed something. “You needn’t be worried,” she said quietly.
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