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. As a matter of fact I have been waiting for you. ‘Where are you taking me?’ she asked, assuming a fearful accent. ” Sir John stamped his letters, brushed his hat, and carefully gave his moustache an upward curl before the looking-glass. ” Nigel Ennison looked up with a little start. "Begone, wretch!" cried the mother, stung beyond endurance by his taunts; "or I will drive you hence with my curses.
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