“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 when there is no longer any need to use it, why then, enough you say—and throw it away. He tugged at the overly large hooded sweatshirt, which she unzipped and let fall to the ground. ‘You are Mrs Ibstock, I think,’ she said eagerly. You have all the earmarks of a fugitive from justice. “He fancied that he did,” she corrected him coolly.
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