Rinaldo's restaurant is quite spacious, a high and airy room with plenty of light. Its walls are of pleasant grey with decorations in high relief in the upper part, and on the stained glass of the sky-light are paintings of game and fruit. Baskets of ferns in the shape of boats hang from the roof, and there are always bunches of roses on the tables. Behind a screen at the far end is the service bar where the wines are served out, and in the centre of the room is a very appetising table of cold meats and fruit; the melons and other things that should be kept cold being on a long box of broken ice; the mushrooms reposing in big wooden baskets; the crayfish and the egg-fruit and the other delicacies, according to seasons, all being set out with exceptional taste and looking very tempting. Quite an aristocratic clientele lunches and dines at Rinaldo's restaurant. Many of the great people of Belgravia like to lunch in a restaurant which is no great distance from their homes; the Monsignori from the neighbouring Roman Catholic Cathedral often go there, and quite a number of gourmets who like the Italian dishes--for Rinaldo, though he looks like a Spaniard, is an Italian--of which there are always some on the bill of fare, are very constant patrons. The restaurant has an extensive _carte du jour_, and most people who lunch there prefer to order that meal from the card, though there is a two-shilling lunch for those who are in a hurry. On the _carte du jour_ which I took away with me on the last occasion I lunched in Wilton Road I found amongst the entrées _ris de veau financière, Vienna schnitzel, côte de veau Napolitaine, bitock à la Russe, entrecôte Tyrolienne_ and _fritto misto à la Romaine_, which shows that the restaurant caters for many nationalities and many tastes. My lunch on this occasion--it was a warm summer day--consisted of a slice of cantaloup melon, 9d.; _fritto misto_, 1s. 6d.; a cut of cheese; an iced _zabajone Milanaise_, 1s., and a cup of coffee, which is always excellent at Rinaldo's, and which, disregarding his early bringing-up--for Italians never allow metals to touch coffee--Rinaldo pours out of a fascinating little metal pot. A three-and-six dinner is the dinner of the house, and Rinaldo explained to me that this rarely contains Italian dishes; for Englishmen in the evening find them rather difficult to digest. This is a menu, taken by chance in the autumn, of the dinner of the restaurant: