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 immense disillusionment that awaited him! The devastating disillusionment! She had a vague desire to run after him, to state her case to him, to wring some understanding from him of what life was to her. “I thought every one had heard,” said Miss Klegg. Ray Plote would not leave a written explanation. “And yet,” he said, “you bid me talk cheerfully, or not at all. “Why, I do not know. "As long as I live, I'll never forget that dress of hers," Prudence declared. "Constance—or, rather, Mrs.
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