Q. 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. " "Keep it," said Trenchard, haughtily. "I'm at your mercy, Poll," rejoined Kneebone, abjectly. He glanced at Miss Klegg again, and spoke quickly and furtively, with eager eyes on Ann Veronica’s face. At this moment, Davies, who had completed his preparations, extinguished the torch. For each costume she had devised a suitable form of matrimonial refusal. Here we are. She had removed her hat and utterly disarranged her already unruly black locks by running agitated fingers through them.
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