One of those hanging moments ensued— hypnotic. Through an open door was a glimpse of the bathroom—a vision of luxury, out of which Annabel herself, in a wonderful dressing-gown and followed by a maid presently appeared. Darting quickly to the chest that contained the priest’s vestments, she leapt onto it and reached her arm down to scrabble behind it on the floor. ‘No more, Saling, no more,’ said Mrs Sindlesham in accents of exhaustion. 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. Earles said, “but this is rubbish.
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