By Amy Ephron
Rosemary Fell was once born into privilege. She has wealth, well–connected neighbors, and a good-looking fiance, Philip Alsop. eventually she has every thing she wants.
It is then, in a second of beneficence, that Rosemary invitations Eleanor Smith, a penniless younger girl she sees below a streetlamp within the rain, into her domestic for a cup of tea. whereas there, Rosemary sees Eleanor alternate an unmistakable glance with Philip, and he or she sends Eleanor on her approach. yet she can't undo this opportunity stumble upon, and it results in a tempestuous and all–consuming love triangle –– till the tides of battle throw all their lives off balance.
Inspired by way of a vintage Katherine Mansfield brief tale, A Cup of Tea engages with its brilliant –– and infrequently a laugh –– forged of characters, really good interval aspect, magnificent evocation of the doubtful days of worldwide battle I, and delightfully spare and picturesque feel of story.
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Additional info for A Cup of Tea: A Novel of 1917
There was something frail about the girl and yet exciting as if she had another side. Not like Rosemary’s usual friends who were done up to appear exactly what they were. He looked at Rosemary questioningly. “Philip, this is my friend Miss Smith. Eleanor Smith. We were just having tea. Would you like a cup, Philip? ” Philip shook his head, “No, I—” Jane Howard interrupted. “I’ll help myself as always,” she said as she filled a plate with tea sandwiches and poured herself a cup of tea. Philip had trouble taking his eyes off Eleanor even though he was speaking to Rosemary.
Rosemary smiled and started to leave. As she opened the door, the bells on the shop door jingled slightly. It was still raining but Rosemary didn’t seem to mind as she walked down the street to the flower shop. Smoke was rising from the potholes contributing to the mist and griminess of the city. On the corner, there was still the shape of the woman standing under the streetlight. It was more than an accident of birth and a length of pavement that separated these two women. The salesgirl followed Rosemary as she made her way through the crowded florist shop a few doors down from the antique store.
I never expected her to repay me,” Rosemary said. ” he said, appearing to still be distracted. “You know. Miss Smith. The one I picked up that day in the rain and brought home for tea. ” Rosemary looked very pleased with herself. On the couch, Philip has shut his eyes. The shops were closing for the night. The streets were crowded with taxis, carriages, people on their way home on foot or running to catch the streetcar, women with children hanging on their skirts making hurried stops in food-stores and the apothecary shop on the corner which closed conveniently a half-hour after everyone else.