Her finger-nails dug into her flesh. “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. Ruth was inflammable; she would always be flaring up swiftly, in pity, in tenderness, in anger; she would always be answering impulses, without seeking to weigh or to analyse them. There was an air of repressed gaiety in her actions: the sense of freedom had returned; her heart was empty again. I want to be very plain with you.
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