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Chapter XI THE PUZZLEMENT OF NIGEL ENNISON Nigel Ennison walked towards his club the most puzzled man in London. “Want one?” Michelle deadpanned. There was a long silence between them. Her mouth was once more covered as they left the second floor guest saloon and headed for the back stairs. “What the devil do you mean by coming for me like that?” Ennison exclaimed, glowering down upon him. She became aware of the modelling of his ear, of the muscles of his neck and the textures of the hair that came off his brow, the soft minute curve of eyelid that she could just see beyond his brow; she perceived all these familiar objects as though they were acutely beautiful things. Now I ain’t saying as how that there Pottiswick—’ ‘How you talk,’ interrupted Melusine impatiently. I arranged that he should. "Nothing you can say to the contrary will convince me that you have not been accessory to his flight. “You are certain of this.
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