Not Trodger. “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. “And now,” she said, splintering the surviving piece of coal into indignant flame-spurting fragments with one dexterous blow, “what am I to do? “I’m in a hole!—mess is a better word, expresses it better. But a far greater affliction was in store for her. If there was such a thing as love at first sight, these two must epitomise it. She went about in a negligent November London that had become very dark and foggy and greasy and forbidding indeed, and tried to find that modest but independent employment she had so rashly assumed. It isn't for their sakes, it's for your own. ” “But why?” “He’s married—and, I believe, living separated from his wife. One must get them with exactly the same intensity.
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