Dizzily, she grabbed at the mantel for support and, resting her head on her hands, paid no heed to a betraying sound behind her—until an unexpected arm encircled her. “We will follow you in another cab. I certainly didn’t mean to kiss you. . Earles himself stood upon the threshold of his sanctum, the prototype of the smart natty Jew, with black hair, waxed moustache, and a wired flower in his button-hole. Instead, he could not get beyond these minor details—why she wore the dress, whence she had come, and whither she was bound. “You are too good for me,” she said in a low voice. Chapter XI THE PUZZLEMENT OF NIGEL ENNISON Nigel Ennison walked towards his club the most puzzled man in London.
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