Turning, she heaved at the bottom door and slammed it in his face just as he came leaping forward to grab her. He left that arid rule clear of the least mist of refinement or delicacy. We’d soon cool that temper of yours. Senior year started with a whimper. 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.
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