‘Take this. 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. She said there was no other way to get them to stop their constant screaming. Sometimes I think I’ll miss them and I start to cry, but I’m ready to have a life of my own. When the paroxysm passed, he was forced to lean against the window-jamb for support. " CHAPTER V.
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