She could not say who, not yet. “Do you mean, aunt,” she asked, “that my father thought I had gone off—with some man?” “What else COULD he think? Would any one DREAM you would be so mad as to go off alone?” “After—after what had happened the night before?” “Oh, why raise up old scores? If you could see him this morning, his poor face as white as a sheet and all cut about with shaving! He was for coming up by the very first train and looking for you, but I said to him, ‘Wait for the letters,’ and there, sure enough, was yours. Chapter XI THE PUZZLEMENT OF NIGEL ENNISON Nigel Ennison walked towards his club the most puzzled man in London. ‘You are the one that I have met in London. All this Woman-who-Diddery —no damn good.
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