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‘Don’t bother, Mother. I had a cup.’
‘Of course we will have fresh tea-and some scones, Beatrice,’ she added to the parlourmaid who had appeared to take the teapot.
‘Yes, madam.’
With a slow, likeable smile Walter Fane said: ‘My mother spoils me, I’m afraid.’
Miss Marple studied him as she made a polite rejoinder.
A gentle quiet-looking person, slightly diffident and apologetic in ma
Miss Marple wondered.