“How’s Mrs. "So did I," answered Jack; "we had better move on. 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. Always. The likeness was ridiculous. The scanty furniture of the rooms corresponded with their dungeon-like aspect. White and Miss Ellicot laid each a hand upon his arm, one on either side. Lucy could see the resemblance of Martin to both of his parents as plain as day.
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