“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. From his wallet he brought forth a yellow letter. He was beautiful despite the odd angle. “Eight, Cavendish Square. For a few days she was fascinated by the place, exploring the moldy rooms, the weird treasures hiding in forgotten trousseaus. Everything I could do! Your father sat up all night. "—An answer for which he was immediately reprimanded by the court. The call of youth to youth, and we name it love for want of something better: a glamorous, evanescent thing "like snow upon the desert's dusty face, lighting a little hour or two, was gone. Only she is not Madame Valade at all.
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