Chapter XI THE PUZZLEMENT OF NIGEL ENNISON Nigel Ennison walked towards his club the most puzzled man in London. The very carts and vans and cabs that Wellington Street poured out incessantly upon the bridge seemed ripe and good in her eyes. “You are an impostor. "Oh! no—no—no," cried Winifred, "I cannot believe it. “Well, I do. She traced him by his scent. "When did you see him, my love?" "A short time ago," replied the housekeeper, unsuspiciously. I am a young person seeking employment and freedom and self-development, just as in quite our first talk of all I said I wanted to be. “I wonder if I’ve been properly brought up. “Generally gets here about seven.
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