“You were born for great things,” he said huskily. " "Look at it, then," said Wild, giving him the portfolio. He had a flattish, perhaps, it should be called, a flattened nose, and a brown, leathernlooking hide, that seemed as if it had not unfrequently undergone the process of tanning. He seemed to do ten things before she could think to do one, to leap upon her and take possession. The reward is mine. Nigel Ennison was he. She realized that he was the sort of man one does not think much about at dinners.
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