A young man —almost a boy, slight, dark, and with his brother’s deep grey eyes—came across the room to her. Larry kept digging heartily into his spaghetti, not intrigued in the slightest. The next page was a drawing that she had made in pen and ink of his face, or what she had remembered of it. What is he—English or American?" "American. He stood back, smiling with an air of proprietorship, and looking about him at the business-like equipment of the room. There was a round table covered, not with the usual “tapestry” cover, but with a plain green cloth that went passably with the wall-paper. She brought the unconscious man down. “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. It loves to sit on your knee. Sebastian had come to visit his old friend and former wife. She read for half an hour, then closed the book because Spurlock appeared to have fallen asleep.
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