But all of that was forgotten. Taking the direction pointed out, he rode off. He had informed her that to leave him would be a choice to live a life of meager subsistence. 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 shock of hearing this title pronounced was equally distributed between Ruth and her husband; but it aroused two absolutely different emotions.
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