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. ” Sir John’s reply was incoherent. It was a refusal of expediency, he said, and not an absolute refusal. ” He shook his head, and threw open the door of a great dimly-lit apartment on the ground floor. Too damned chickenhearted to confess to me he’d run off with the woman. On taxing his recollection, the whole circumstance rushed to mind with painful distinctness.
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