’ ‘Don’t start arguing again, for God’s sake,’ snapped Roding irritably, dragging out his own large pocket-handkerchief. Perhaps, she may tell me whose picture this is. She went past three keenly observant and ostentatiously preoccupied waiters down the thickcarpeted staircase and out of the Hotel Rococo, that remarkable laboratory of relationships, past a tall porter in blue and crimson, into a cool, clear night. Chapter XI THE PUZZLEMENT OF NIGEL ENNISON Nigel Ennison walked towards his club the most puzzled man in London. “His stipend forbade it,” she said, and seemed to fall into a train of thought. I spent my fair share of time in the closet. The weed was all right. Period trying desperately to cover her nudity with a dingy hand towel she had found lying on the floor in a corner. ‘What in God’s name do you think you’re playing at?’ ‘Let me alone, man,’ Gerald muttered under his breath. There was nothing left now of the selfassured, prosperous man of affairs. “You’re.
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