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. The iron slipped from his face, leaving it blank with astonishment. Until the age of five she adored him. To be sure, Ruth had dimly been aware of this; but now for the first time she was made painfully conscious of it. "Perhaps you could point out such a party, Mr.
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