She had imagined that prisons were white-tiled places, reeking of lime-wash and immaculately sanitary. Well-balanced, sane, wasn’t I? You never heard anyone call me a madman? I’m pretty near being one now, and it’s her fault. Chapter XI THE PUZZLEMENT OF NIGEL ENNISON Nigel Ennison walked towards his club the most puzzled man in London. “My only answer would be to ask you to look at that mirror and then at the poster. "Oh! Sir, if you'd seen her as I've seen her, you'd not wish her a continuance of misery.
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