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“Annabel,” she said, “you are my sister, or I would bid you take the flowers if you care for them, and leave the room. Probably she was married years ago and is now merely on the way to her husband's house. “It’s magnificent!” He leaned back and regarded her with his head a little on one side. “We will convince him now to the contrary,” Annabel answered. " By Wild's advice, the usual constabulary force was greatly augmented. At the same time,” she added, in a suddenly altered tone, “it isn’t anything whatever to do with you, is it?” “Why not?” he answered. "Thanks to you," said the doctor. "Ah, I see it all!" he cried, with a quick glance. " And he struck up the following ballad:— SAINT GILES'S BOWL. 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. Gerald exchanged a puzzled glance with his friend. The end of the world seemed at hand.
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