The rich, heavy food sat in her stomach like so many soft pebbles. “Not at all. She was like an angel with one wing. Supposing she saw the young man at dinner that night, emptying his bottle? She could not go to him, sit down and draw the sordid pictures she had seen so often. Behind every one of these myriad fronts she passed there must be a career or careers. Night and day have been alike to me. So absorbed was she by her passionate supplications that she was insensible to anything passing around her, until she felt a touch upon her shoulder, and heard a well-known voice breathe in her ear—"Mother!" She started at the sound as if an apparition had called her, screamed, and fell into her son's outstretched arms. Chapter XI THE PUZZLEMENT OF NIGEL ENNISON Nigel Ennison walked towards his club the most puzzled man in London. “This isn’t a world for an innocent girl to walk about in. We, ourselves, are scarcely the same we were twelve years ago. Life is two things, that’s how I see it; two things mixed and muddled up together.
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