. . "So much the worse," replied Jonathan, rising and taking a turn, as if uncertain
what to do. Chapter XI
THE PUZZLEMENT OF NIGEL ENNISON
Nigel Ennison walked towards his club the most puzzled man in London. This was what he missed. As far as I
can, I belong to them all. They drove
rapidly through the emptying streets. While involved in this crowd, near Temple Bar,
—where the thoroughfare was most dangerous from the masses of ruin that
impeded it,—an individual, whose swarthy features recalled to the carpenter one
of his tormentors of the previous night, collared him, and, with bitter
imprecations accused him of stealing his child. We have to hang about in the
interval. They didn’t talk about it much,
but Mike had been through some eerily similar foster
homes in Florida, the where he was born. How she needed him!
Next moment, she had wrenched open the door, and was confronting her
guard. Now if you are ready to go with me, I too
am ready. The place, in which they stood, was a small entrance-chamber, cut off, like the
segment of a circle, from the main apartment, (of which it is needless to say it
originally constituted a portion,) by a stout wooden partition. "It is not too late to repair the wrong I have done my nephew," cried Trenchard. She made me over.
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