He sat with folded arms and knitted brows, thinking intently. ‘Jacques, do not die while I am gone. 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'll lay my life he's gone on a fox-and-goose-chase to Mr. Stanley as they drew alongside, to account for his own ruffled and heated expression. She forbade him to escape to his workshop in the basement during those times, denying him his one and only hobby. Your speaking of the trial brings the whole scene to my mind.
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