Chapter 2 Chapter Two Miss Marple's Comparison

That evening, the Palme d'Or was filled with joy. Miss Marple was sitting at her little table in a corner, looking around with interest at her guests.The restaurant is large, with windows on three sides, letting in the warm evening breeze from the West Indian Ocean.There are various soft light table lamps on the table.Most of the female guests wore evening gowns, thin calico, showing bronzed shoulders and arms. Miss Marple's nephew's wife, Qiao An, kindly persuaded her to accept a "little check". "Because, Aunt Jane, it's going to be pretty hot out there, and I know you don't have any light clothes."

Jane Marble accepted the check gratefully.At her age, it is only natural for the older generation to support the younger generation, and for the middle-aged to take care of the elderly.But, no matter what, she still couldn't force herself to buy something very thin.At her age, even in the hottest weather, she felt warm at best, and St. Annori's temperature was not so "tropical hot" as it was said.Tonight she wore a gray lace dress, in the custom of good English women. She wasn't the only elderly person present, there were people of all ages in the hall.There were elderly tycoons with young wives of three or four, middle-aged couples from the north of England, and large families of Caracas with young children.There were also many from various countries in South America, and loud conversations in Spanish and Portuguese were heard everywhere.Two entrenched British pastors, a doctor, a retired judge, and even a Chinese family.The waiters in the restaurant are all women, male tall black women, all in white uniforms; but the head waiter is an experienced Italian, and there is another Frenchman who specializes in wine. In addition, Tim Kendall His attentive eyes naturally couldn't let go of anything. He walked around, stopping at the guests' tables from time to time to say hello.His wife also takes care of him at all times.She is very pretty.Natural blond hair and a wide, smiling mouth.Never saw Molly Kendall lose her temper.Her subordinates can work for her enthusiastically, and she herself knows how to receive different guests.To the old male guests, she would act like a baby with a smile, and to the young female guests, she would never stop admiring their clothes.

"Oh, Mrs. Dyson, you are very pretty in your dress to-night. I can't wait to tear it off the back. In fact, Miss Marple thought she was well dressed herself: a white evening dress with a light green embroidered shawl on her shoulders. Lucky touched the silk with her fingers and said, "The color is so pretty. I want to have it too." Such a one. ""You can buy them in our hotel shop. " she said and walked over. She did not stop at Miss Marple's table.She often leaves the old lady in the care of her husband.She often said: "Old ladies prefer men to wait on them."

Tim Kendal came forward and bowed to Miss Marple. "Don't you want to order anything special?" He asked: "As long as you order, I will ask the kitchen to cook something special for you. The food in the hotel is also subtropical. I am afraid it will not suit the flavor of your hometown." Bar?" Miss Marple replied with a smile that this was one of the great pleasures of traveling abroad. "That's all right, but if you need anything—" "For example?" "Uh——" Tim Kendall looked a bit puzzled, and racked his brains before saying: "Bread and butter pudding?"

Miss Marple laughed and said that bread and butter pudding was not necessarily her thing at the moment. She picked up a small teaspoon and began to savor the passion fruit sundae in front of her. The drum-beating band began to play.This kind of musical instrument performance, mostly made of gasoline barrels, is the most attractive thing for tourists on these islands.To tell the truth, Miss Marple was a bit hard to bear.She felt that the sound didn't have to be so loud and noisy.But it is an undisputed fact that everyone seems to enjoy it. Miss Marple put herself in the shoes of a young man and thought: since everyone likes it, why not learn to adapt to it.She couldn't ask Tim Kendall to get her someone to play "The Blue Danube" somewhere (waltz; how beautiful!).The dances that people dance nowadays are too weird. They shake and twist, and the whole person looks like they are curled up.Well, young people are supposed to be having fun—and yet, her thoughts hit the rocks again.Because she suddenly realized: few of these people are young people.Isn't the dancing, the lights, the band playing (i.e. it's all drum-banging) fun for the young?But where are the young people?Maybe it's studying in college or working all day long except for two weeks of vacation throughout the year.She thought that it would be too far and too expensive for them to travel to such a place.This joyful and carefree life is the patent of thirty and forty year olds.Also, it's those old-fashioned people who want to catch up (or die!)

Their young wives are indeed a pity! Miss Marple felt wronged for the young man.Take Mrs. Kendall for example, she is probably two or three years old at most.Although she looked happy, it was for work after all. At a table not far away sat Gannon Prescott and his sister. They beckoned Miss Marple to have coffee with them, and she went.Miss Prescott was a thin, stern woman.Gannon is round and fat, with a rosy complexion and a docile face. Coffee came and everyone moved their chairs back.Miss Prescott drew from her sewing bag the rather ugly table-mat she was knitting.While knitting, she told Miss Marple all the events of the day.They visited a girls' school in the morning.After a nap, after a walk through a sugarcane field, I went to a nearby apartment to drink tea with friends.

The Priscotts lived longer at the Palme d'Or than Miss Marple, and they told her a great deal about the other travellers. That very old Mr. Ryfell, who comes every year for his holidays, is very rich.Owns a whole bunch of supermarket chains in the north of England.The young woman who accompanied him was his secretary, Esther Walders—a widow. (Of course it's fine. There's nothing wrong with it. Besides, he's almost eighty years old!) Miss Marple said she knew there was nothing wrong with their relationship, and Gannon added, "That's a nice young woman; her mother is also a widow, as far as I know, and lives in Chester."

"Mr. Ryfell has a valet with him, which is actually his nurse, and a qualified masseur. It seems to be called Jaxson. Poor Mr. Ryfell, almost completely paralyzed. Very sad." , so much money." "The responsive philanthropist," said Gannon Prescott respectfully. The crowd in the restaurant shuttled back and forth in handfuls.Some were moving away from the band, others were getting closer, and Major Balgrave sat with the couple Hillingdon and Dyson. "The crowd—" Miss Prescott said, dropping her voice suddenly and unnecessarily, even though the band was so loud that the conversation had long been lost.

"By the way, I was going to ask you about them." "They came last year too. They spend three months a year in the Western Indian Ocean, traveling from island to island. The tall, thin gentleman is Colonel Hillindon, and the dark-skinned woman is his wife, both of whom are plants." The other two, Mr. and Mrs. Greg Dyson, are Americans and seem to have written books on butterflies. All four of them are interested in birds." "Blessed is the man who has a taste for the wild." Gannon.Prescott said softly. "You say it's a hobby, and they won't like it, Geralmy," said his sister.

"They've had articles in both National Geographic and the Royal Horticultural Journal. They're serious about their interests." A boisterous roar of laughter erupted from the table they were talking about.The laughter was so loud that even the band was suppressed.Greg Dyson leaned back in his chair and tapped his hand on the table while his wife sniffed coquettishly.After Major Balgrave drank the wine glass in his hand, he clapped his hands. At this moment, this group of people was anything but serious. "Major Belgrave shouldn't have been drinking so much," said Miss Prescott, with some glee. "He's got high blood pressure."

A bottle of farmer's juice wine was delivered to that table again. "It's a relief to know everyone clearly," said Miss Marple. "When I got to know them this afternoon, I didn't know who was married to whom." There was a moment of silence.Miss Prescott gave a dry cough and said: "Well, this—" "Jiaan," Gannon said admonishingly, "it's best not to say too much." "You really, Geramy, I didn't say anything. Only last year, somehow or other, we thought Mrs. Dyson was Mrs. Hillingdon, and we were told she wasn't." "It's a queer impression, isn't it?" said Miss Marple carelessly.She exchanged glances with Miss Prescott for a moment.In an instant, a natural understanding of women communicated between them. If Gannon Prescott had been more sensitive, he would have known he was being held back. The two women exchanged glances again, and it was clear that they were saying to each other: "Some other day..." "Mr. Dyson calls his wife 'Lucky'. Is that her real name, or is it her nickname?" asked Miss Marple. "I don't think it's her real name." "I asked him," Gannon said, "and he said it was because she was his luck. If he lost her, he said he would be out of luck.I think what he said makes sense. " Gannon glanced at his sister incomprehensibly. "He's very fond of jokes," said Miss Prescott. There was a sudden loud noise from the beat band, and a large group of guests rushed onto the dance floor. Miss Marple and the people at the same table moved their chairs and watched carefully.Miss Marble prefers to watch them dance; she appreciates the rhythm of the steps and the swaying of the dancer's body, and she thinks it looks natural, real, and has a conservative force. Tonight, the first time she felt at home in this new environment, she had been unable to grasp what she always found most easily, the similarities between her first acquaintances and the various people she had known earlier, Although the colorful costumes of the people dazzled her for a moment, she knew that soon she would be able to make some interesting comparisons. Take Molly Kendall for example, she's like that nice girl, I can't remember her name, but I know she's the driver lady on the bus in the market district, helping you up, watching Never ring the bell until you are seated.Tim Kendal happened to be something like the head waiter at the Royal George's restaurant in Middlechester.Confidence tinged with apprehension (she remembered the head waiter had a stomach ulcer).As for Major Belgrave, he was hardly distinguishable from General Leroy, Captain Fleming, Commander Wicklaw, or Commander Richardson.She wanted to find a more interesting character.How about Greg?He is not easy to compare, the Americans, maybe a bit like Sir George Zorloff, always telling jokes at the civil defense meeting-but also somewhat similar to Mr. Murdoch who kept the butcher shop.Mr. Murdoch's reputation is not very good, but some people say that it is someone telling the truth, but Mr. Murdoch himself deliberately encourages people to spread such rumors! What about "lucky"?That's easy - that Marlene Evelyn Shillingdon in the Three Crowns?She couldn't think of who she looked like.Judging from her appearance, she resembles many people, too many tall, thin, weathered British women.Like Sir Peter Woolf's first wife, Caroline, who committed suicide?And Lisley James, the woman who never showed her face, sold the house quietly and went away without telling anyone where she was going.Colonel Hillindon?Couldn't find any clues yet.She had to get to know him better first.It should belong to the kind of polite and quiet people.I never knew what was going on in his mind.Sometimes there are amazing strokes.She remembered that one day Major Hubble slit her own throat without making a sound, and no one knew why.Miss Marple thought she knew, but could not tell. Her eyes flicked to the table of Mr. Ryfell, who was known chiefly as a man of great wealth, who came to the West Indies every year, He was half paralyzed, like a wrinkled old bird of prey.A suit of clothes hangs loosely on the shriveled body.He must be seventy or eighty years old, maybe ninety.A pair of eyes are still quite sharp, often violent and rude, but people never blame him, partly because he is rich, partly because he has an intimidating air, which makes people feel confused as if only he Like, he has the right to be rude to you. Mrs. Wadders, his secretary, sat with him.She has corn-colored hair and an amiable face.Mr. Ryfell yelled at her all the time, but she never seemed to feel it.Rather than saying she is humble, it is better to say that she is forgetful.She behaved like a well-trained hospital nurse.Miss Marple thought she had probably been a nurse before. A tall, handsome young man in a white suit jacket walked over and stood beside Mr. Raifel's chair.The old man looked up at him, nodded, and signaled him to sit down again.The young man sat down as ordered. "I think it must be Mr. Jackson," thought Miss Marple, "his valet." She studied Jaxon with considerable attention. Over at the bar, Molly Kendall stretched and took off her high heels.Tim enters from the balcony, to her side.At this time, there were only the couple at the bar. "Tired, honey?" "It's okay. I seem to be able to cover up a lot tonight." "It doesn't mean much to you, does it? Everything here? Of course, I know the work is hard." He said, looking at her longingly. she laughed. "Oh, Tim, stop talking nonsense, I love it here. It's awesome. My life's dream has come true." "That's right, it's pretty good, if you're here as a guest. But it's hard work to look after everything." "But you never get something for nothing, don't you?" said Molly Kendall sensibly. Tim Kendall frowned. "Do you think everything is on track? It worked? Are we going to make it?" "of course." "You don't think customers will say 'it's worse than when Sanderson and the others ran it'?" "Of course someone will say that, it's inevitable! But only for the old stubborn ones. I dare say we do a lot better than them. We're both much more charming than they are, and you almost charm the old clappers." dead, and those 40- and 50-year-olds want you to want to have sex with them; as for me, I flirt with those old guys, making them all look like old perverts. When I meet those depressed and sad Yes, I'll just pretend to be a good girl. Oh, I think we're safe." Tim frowned. "As long as you think about it. I'm a little scared. We fought everything for this deal. I left my job behind." "You were right to do that," said Molly hastily. "It's self-destructive." He laughed and kissed her on the tip of the nose. "I tell you we're infallible," she said again. "Why are you so worried?" "Born, I suppose. I can't help thinking—if something goes wrong." "What kind of thing—?" "Well, I don't know either. Maybe someone will drown." "No. The seaside here is the safest. Besides, the big Swedish guy we hired keeps an eye on them all the time." "I'm so stupid," Tim Kendall said.He hesitated for a while, then said again: "You don't have those nightmares anymore, do you?" "Oh, such trivial things," said Molly, laughing aloud.