At the present moment she was living in a world of her own creation, a carnival of brave men and fair women, characters out of the tales she had so newly read for the first time. It's my way when I'm ruffled. Yesterday!—who cared? To-morrow!—who knew? "Porpoise," she said, touching his hand. Reaction set in and she leapt at him, beating at his chest with her fists. Her eyes were lit with a gleam of humour. ” “No, don’t say that. 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. 'He that woos a maid',— fol-de-rol—(hiccupping). She thought of an old abandoned barn that she could inhabit further downriver, but shrugged off the idea in disdain. Wood in the deepest mourning. ‘You mean that his missus is pretending to be my mistress? Lord-a-mercy!’ ‘Precisely. "All life is a muddle, and we are all muddlers, more or less. ’ Gerald gazed at her without expression.
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