14
IN the Hotel St. James, in Paris, the Drinkwaters were giving a modest tea-party to their French and English acquaintances. To Amy Winter, who could have been dragged to a tea-party in England only by wild horses, it was one of those functions that must not be missed; because the Drinkwaters were reputed to cultivate only the best French people, and Amy Winter spent much of her life abroad in attempting to do the same. The guests numbered nearly a dozen: the tea came from Mrs. Drinkwaters' own tea merchant in London; the hotel waiters did the rest.
There were introductions in deference to the French guests, and Amy Winter found herself in the clutches of a maiden lady with long teeth, apparently a poor relation of the Drinkwaters, who spent this mortal life in endeavouring to save her
