“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. She breathed into a cloth soaked in rose oil as Sebastian had prescribed, but the smell of roses mixed obscenely with the smell of death and decay, causing her to retch. “What else can happen?” asked Miss Miniver, with a little weak gesture at the glow. His glasses were gone. But I'll tell you about him some other time. Ruth hugged the envelope and McClintock, with the end of a burnt match, drew a cabalistic sign. For a while they stood there, silent, motionless, staring at the doorway where still a few strings of the bamboo curtain swayed and twisted, agitated by the Wastrel's passage. There was the stile on which Jonathan had sat, and he recollected distinctly the effect of his mocking glance— how it had hardened his heart against his mother's prayer. She glanced into her companion’s face, and she saw there strange things. It was not possible. There is something sensual in the thought of lotus flowers. She had something of the feeling a Hindoo must experience who has been into surroundings or touched something that offends his caste. His head was small and bullet-shaped, and he did not wear a wig, but had his sleek black hair cut off closely round his temples.
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