Annabel passed on with a strained nod to her sister, and Sir John’s bow was a miracle of icy displeasure. It got on my nerves—the women I saw. “Our interest lies in heading them off. “Would you stand it? I’m going to clear out. ’ ‘Don’t count on it. 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. Miss Stanley, it was manifest, had given him Ann Veronica’s address.
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