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 moon had arisen, and everything could be as plainly distinguished as during the day. “I mean to go to prison directly the session is over,” said Miss Klegg. ‘One does not blow off the head of a man with whom one is in love, en effet. In a very definite sense we are in the wrong —hopelessly in the wrong.
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