Because she states her case in a tangle, drags it through swamps of nonsense, it doesn’t alter the fact that she is right. “Wow. ” “Of course you can. “Why not?” “Because you are mine. To-night she could have hugged both the old maids. 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 drummed impatiently with her fingers against the arm of her chair. Under her feet lay intricate mosaics, and each warm hall was festooned in tapestries.
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