Chapter XI THE PUZZLEMENT OF NIGEL ENNISON Nigel Ennison walked towards his club the most puzzled man in London. That world of fine printed cambrics and escorted maidens, of delicate secondary meanings and refined allusiveness, presented itself to her imagination with the brightness of a lost paradise, as indeed for many women it is a lost paradise. Take my child to—it is—oh God!—I am sinking—take it—take it!" "Where?" shouted Wood. This I have sworn to do—this I will do. It was a castoff of Shari’s from her brief obsession with sewing. ” “Then I,” she said, “have too much character.
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