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Chapter XI THE PUZZLEMENT OF NIGEL ENNISON Nigel Ennison walked towards his club the most puzzled man in London. Wood—and after him came his daughter. Spurling. How do you like the story?” “Go on,” said Ann Veronica, a little hoarsely, “tell me all of it. “Why shouldn’t one face the facts of one’s self?” She stood up. “You Mr. Her pa was only the smithy. Thank you for walking me home the other day. " McClintock preferred to put it thus. “My wife refused absolutely to have anything more to do with me. Much more temperate; the discreet and joyless love of a virtuous, reluctant, condescending wife.
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