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But, finding the cellar-door open, concluded he had got out that way. " And he struck up the following ballad:— SAINT GILES'S BOWL. 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. She was the first to recover herself. Good night!" She pressed his hand and went out. ’ The smile vanished. Sebastian snorted, “If it isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black!” “Your house is host to the lowest forms of life, those without morals! I will no longer allow my children to live 210 in such a house. Miss Mary to the life. "I don't know," she answered vaguely. She kept thinking she was thinking about Mr. By and by the tramp of horses' feet was heard slowly ascending Snow Hill, and presently a troop of grenadier guards rode into the area facing Newgate.

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