Chapter XI THE PUZZLEMENT OF NIGEL ENNISON Nigel Ennison walked towards his club the most puzzled man in London. Perhaps her granddaughter might marry his grandson. Without realizing what she has done, she's made a dreadful mess of it. At the first glance, he imagined he must have stumbled upon a museum of rarities, there were so many glass-cases, so many open cabinets, ranged against the walls; but the next convinced him that if Jonathan was a virtuoso, his tastes did not run in the ordinary channels. “You remember the man in Paris who used to follow me about—Meysey Hill they called him?” He nodded. Gay," he added, turning to the poet. But the mere recognition of his son’s signature was enough to stoke the fires of his long-held rage. What would happen when confronted by the actual? He was young; she was also young and physically beautiful—his lawful wife. He would repeat them innumerable times, and patiently Ruth would repeat her answers.
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