Chapter XI THE PUZZLEMENT OF NIGEL ENNISON Nigel Ennison walked towards his club the most puzzled man in London. ’ ‘Who’s bleeding to death?’ demanded Trodger. She looked up and said, a little breathlessly, “I’m sorry, aunt, but I don’t think I can. He moved her dress from her shoulders and off her torso. "The gentleman is a stranger to me, Poll," replied the woollen-draper, with increased embarrassment. But he had been forewarned by his great-nephew. ” “Yet you are very young. It hung from the centre of a stout pole, each end of which rested upon the calloused shoulder of a coolie; an ordinary Occidental chair with a foot-rest. ’ ‘Lord, yes,’ agreed Gerald, in mock horror.
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