Even in this quaint, black-beamed old place the same feeling of artificiality haunted him. The bobbing, scurrying waiter was a servile offence against liberty, while at a table in one corner three young exquisites were discussing the virtues of a new shoe-buckle and the piquances of the latest demi-mondaine of the place. The proprietor of the inn, a fat, tallow-faced foreigner in black, scuttled hither and thither, and beamed with delight when Jeffray spoke to him in Italian. Richard felt that the fellow would have licked the dust off any great, little gentleman’s shoes had his highness honored him with such an order. Money, impudence, and ostentation were the only noble necessities amid such surroundings. Beggared, sea-stained Ulysses would have had the dogs set on him in such a pace. Richard, after being conducted to the gate by the proprietor, who jabbered Italian, and appeared ready to embrace his patron had not etiquette intervened, strolled down the village towards the Pantiles, and looked for the house where the Lady Letitia was staying. A rat-tat from a brass knocker on a green front door brought Jeffray face to face with the dowager’s footman in cerise and buff. The man’s smug face relaxed into a grin as he bowed Richard into the narrow hall, and surrendered him to the urbanity of Mr. Parsons. The Lady Letitia was at home, and expected a few folk of some consequence to tea and cards. The major-domo dared to assure Richard that her ladyship would be rejoiced at seeing him. When Jeffray was ushered into his aunt’s room, he found the old lady seated alone at one of the windows overlooking the Pantiles. Two card-tables were set out at the upper end, and a great silver tray ladened with choice china in blue and gold stood on a gate-legged table by the fire. For the rest, the room appeared shabby and colorless, the gilding on the walls dull and cracked, the carpet worn, the brocades and tapestries faded. Certainly its atmosphere was one of genteel elegance, and in a fashionable health resort even a grocer’s parlor was considered elegant. It was the inmates who mattered, not the upholstery and the chandeliers. The Lady Letitia received her nephew with absolute effusion. She tottered up, putting aside her stick, and held out two gouty hands to him with the smile of a most amiable of grandmothers. The recollection of her hurried flight from Rodenham did not appear to disturb her equanimity, for the old lady had grown accustomed to forgetting “incidents” in her day. She kissed Jeffray on both cheeks, leaving in each case a patch of powder behind, and then held him at arm’s length, gazing in his face.