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Anna, my love, you cannot have forgotten so soon. It's a long time since we met, eight years and more. 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. Anna stood on the step and looked up and down the street for a hansom. She recognized him as the man who had blundered into the wrong room. Her glance, absorbing the gilt letters and their significance, communicated to her poised body a species of paralysis. It was perfectly logical.
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