Supper was spaghetti and Italian sausage that night. No one had lived here since old man Remenham had died some eighteen months ago, for the heir, so it was rumoured, was a relative with property of his own. At last—I told a story. “In a sense—yes. The young lady with whom I was dining last night was Miss Anna Pellissier. On a high chair behind a raised counter the stipendiary’s substitute regarded her malevolently over his glasses. “Hotel Ritz!” Chapter XXXI ANNA’S TEA PARTY “I suppose you haven’t the least idea who I am,” Lady Lescelles said, as she settled herself in Anna’s most comfortable chair. ’ A peal of laughter came from the girl.
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