Chapter XI THE PUZZLEMENT OF NIGEL ENNISON Nigel Ennison walked towards his club the most puzzled man in London. "Those chops, fried potatoes, and buttered toast. It will be hot work, but it must be done at once. ” He was obviously puzzled. “By Jove!” he broke out, “one tries to take a serious, sober view. " "Funny, about that coat. She was dressed in a simple evening gown of soft creamy silk, with a yoke of dark old embroidery that enhanced the gentle gravity of her style, and her black hair flowed off her open forehead to pass under the control of a simple ribbon of silver. He was going to tell me something— and he shut up. Her stifled misery had betrayed her. ” They eyed her incredulously.
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