I’m that shamed to confess it, miss, but it were then I thought of Martha. Ann Veronica ignored her friend’s confusion. The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere. He haunted a state between hectic dreaming and mild delirium, and she found herself talking aloud to him. Chapter XI THE PUZZLEMENT OF NIGEL ENNISON Nigel Ennison walked towards his club the most puzzled man in London.
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