" "What right have you to suppose this, Sir?" demanded Trenchard, sternly. " "That kind of talk makes you sound like a white man. 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. Put out your hand and bid me God-speed. She sat down awkwardly and helplessly on one of the little stools by her table and covered her face with her hands. " She showed him the locket; and he studied the face. Michelle repeated herself brashly, “A vampire, silly.
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