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. The man’s statement was explicit, and spoken with confidence. That there Frenchie didn’t look any too friendly to me. Melusine glanced towards the elderly dame and found that sharp gaze directed upon her. I was—I was a corespondent. He would ask her to come to dinner with him in some little Italian or semiBohemian restaurant in the district toward Soho, or in one of the more stylish and magnificent establishments about Piccadilly Circus, and for the most part she did not care to refuse. I am going up to dine with my sister. "And yet—but it is only part of the chain of ill-luck that seems wound around me. He upset some one —probably Mr. “Soon she will return.
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