” “Lucy Albert, sir. “You are coming my way,” Courtlaw answered. It had been part of her wedding trousseau, a gift from her family to his. “No, I’d like to. “You can count upon me, Nigel,” she said. 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. Irregularly, in a quite inglorious and unromantic way, you know, I am a vicious man. “You!” said Ann Veronica.
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