“It belonged to my mother.”
“Oh,” she replied. “That explains it.”
When Tom brought out the sausages, Stella took one bite.
“They’re good. Perhaps a little less salt next time.”
Rachel tasted the salad.
“Very fresh. I normally use a lighter dressing, but this is nice too.”
Each sentence sounded polite until you noticed the hook hidden inside it.
Julian sat beside Rachel and said nothing.
His silence bothered me more than their remarks.
When the beef was finally served, the table looked magnificent.
