Chapter XI THE PUZZLEMENT OF NIGEL ENNISON Nigel Ennison walked towards his club the most puzzled man in London. But if he starts a long jog, his name is Dennis. “I’d sooner condemn you to Hell. "Come down stairs directly, and let your mother look at your wrist. Will you forgive me—if I say no more?” She looked at him with perplexed, earnest eyes. She makes me feel terribly old-fashioned. ‘Well, shan’t I come to the major’s house up Stratton Street, sir?’ ‘I’ll give the major your report, Trodger. If you have not been arrested, we have been disturbed; and it is but just and reasonable you should pay for occasioning such disturbance. Then she looked at her aunt, and traced with a curious eye the careful arrangement of her hair, her sharp nose, the little drooping lines of mouth and chin and cheek.
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