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I must go somewhere into hiding, a long, long way off. ‘Either you tell me why you want the wretched animal, or it stays here. 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. Now tell them why. ‘Shocked you, have I? We weren’t mealy-mouthed in my day, my boy.
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