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\" She opened the front door with her keys, stepping inside. 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. And at the thought of that other lover—he was convinced that that beloved person was a lover, and she found herself unable to say a word to explain to him that this other person, the person she loved, did not even know of her love—Ramage grew angry and savage once more, and returned suddenly to gibe and insult. I didn’t know. ‘Which presupposes that she needs to hide at all. Before Wood had time to inquire into the cause of this sound, his attention was diverted by a man, who rushed past the entry with the swiftness of desperation. If we were to wait till a prig was rightfully nabbed, we might tarry till doomsday. Proof? There is someone who might be willing to help. The music confused and distracted her, and made her struggle against a feeling of intoxication. Aha!" he continued, producing a short silver staff, which he carried constantly about with him, and uttering a terrible imprecation, "I see you're confounded. “You go home and think of all this,” he said, “and talk about it to-morrow. Her eardrums were burning with the echoes of those hideous shouts.

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