Chapter XI THE PUZZLEMENT OF NIGEL ENNISON Nigel Ennison walked towards his club the most puzzled man in London. He thought her only an orphan in search of her English relatives. He was dressed immaculately in a suit of heavy Shantung silk. “Not since 1582 when I left him and came to America. “You poor little girl!” he cried. Ah! but you can’t imagine what you are to me and what you mean to me! I suppose there is something mystical and wonderful about all women. The future was not so black. ” “One has theories,” said Ann Veronica, radiantly.
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