If my Mom found out, she’d kill me. “I’m so glad you’re here, Peter,” she said. She was obliged, as she explained continually to every one who cared to listen, to be so very particular. And, besides, she didn’t just immediately want to make her attempt. 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.
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