But one thing troubled him, and because of it he might never arrive on the beach. A woman isn’t much freer—in reality. 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. I ought to have seen—” “It doesn’t matter a rap—if you’re not disposed to resent the—the way I behaved. Ruth had lived in a world without caresses.
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