Can’t ask the gent to go abroad and condone a bigamy. She was sick of herself, of her life, of everything but him; and for him all her masked and hidden being was crying out. I love you—unendurably. There was a time, long, long ago, when the tears would have rushed to my eyes unbidden at the bare mention of generosity like yours, Mr. “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 was wan and white.
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