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Chapter XI THE PUZZLEMENT OF NIGEL ENNISON Nigel Ennison walked towards his club the most puzzled man in London. The whole of that relationship persisted in remaining obscure. Without a word or a gesture, the Wastrel turned and staggered forth, out of the orbit of these two, having been thrust into it for a single purpose already described. It was a face that matched her body, so pure and beautiful that any man would have killed for her. “Forgive me,” he said, “but I want to hear it from your sister. Maybe others that I do not know about. “Permit me to offer you the English paper which has just arrived, Sir John,” he said, holding out a Daily Telegraph. The future Mrs Roding turned bright, laughing eyes on the major.
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