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. Lost from all protection, all her family dead—as are mine. ” “Not coming home!” “No!” And, in spite of her resolve to be a Person, Ann Veronica began to weep with terror at herself. The ruffled chemise-front under the wide lapels of her waistcoat and jacket no longer quivered, and her pose, with the full cloth petticoat spreading about her, was relaxed. E. "I have it too!" exclaimed Hogarth, busily plying his pencil.
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