" The clock tinkled ten. 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. You see me here, an admitted failure in the object to which I have devoted two years of my life. Something in his tone pinched her heart. They shouted to her from the wings to come off. They knew they were all Bogey in disguise. Drummond took up a cigarette and lit it. .
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