Chapter XI THE PUZZLEMENT OF NIGEL ENNISON Nigel Ennison walked towards his club the most puzzled man in London. The women, Ann Veronica thought, were not quite so interesting as the men. Ann Veronica was lying on her bed in a darkling room staring at the ceiling. And they never talked of anything at all, never discussed, never even encouraged gossip. The one profession, the one decent profession, I mean, for a woman—except the stage— is teaching, and there we trample on one another. "Once for all, I shall go. My politics in that matter wouldn’t be to give women votes. You see, we travelled second class, and we are in the least known quarter of Paris.
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