He pulled on his pants, his yellow shirt with the ridiculous horse logo, his brown socks, and shoes. “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. Bring the light this way—quick! I cannot decipher the signature. Of course a little daughter is a delightful thing enough. One from 1966, a yearbook photo reprinted in a newspaper. And it's uncanny. “What’s odd?” “Oh, everything!” She shivered, and went to the fire and poked it.
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