A Literary Forum Dinner Mrs. Olivier was taking a selfie in the mirror. She glanced sideways at the mantelpiece for twenty minutes, then turned back and continued to play with her hair.Mrs. Olivia did not deny that her problem is that she always loves to change the hairstyle on the top.She has tried almost every style, sometimes wearing a high bun in the style of Madame de Pompadour (Mrs. Pompadour was the mistress of King Louis XV of France); Intelligent forehead At least she wanted it to look intelligent; she had tried tightly braided curls, an artistic mess.She also knows that it doesn't really matter what hairstyle she wears today, because she is going to change her previous outfit and put on a hat.

There were four hats on the top shelf of Mrs. Olivier's wardrobe, one of which was dedicated to weddings.When attending a wedding, a hat is a must-have item.For this reason, Mrs. Oliver even has two in reserve.The one in the round cardboard box was made of feathers and was so snug that even in a sudden storm when you got out of the car and walked into a church or a securities company, the hat would still fit snugly on your head.Another more refined hat for a wedding on a summer weekend afternoon.It is decorated with flowers and chiffon, with mimosas tied to the yellow netting. The other two hats on the shelf can be worn for many occasions.There was a country hat, as Mrs. Olivier called it hers, made of tan felt with a fold-up brim to suit all styles of duffel.

Mrs. Olivier had a cashmere jumper and a light jumper for hot weather, both of which were the perfect color for the hat.However, the two pullovers wore out quickly, and the hat was never worn once.Because, it's just going to the country to have a meal with friends, so why is it necessary to wear a hat? The fourth hat is the most expensive and has the advantage of being very durable.Madame Olivier sometimes thought it might be because it was expensive.This beanie is knotted in layers of contrasting velvet in a soft hue that will work with just about anything. Mrs. Olivier hesitated, then called for help.

Maria, she called out, then louder: Maria, come here. Here comes Maria, who is often called upon to advise Mrs. Olivier on her attire. Are you going to wear that nice and stylish hat?Maria asked. Yes, Mrs. Olivier said: Do you think it looks better in this way or in reverse? Maria took a step back and looked. You put the back on the front, you know that? yes i know.Mrs. Olivia said: I also know that it is worn upside down, but I just think it looks better this way. Oh, what do you say?Maria asked. Well, this is more elegant and luxurious, it must make me look as expensive as the price.Olivier said.

So why do you think it would be better to wear it backwards? Because of this, the beautiful blue and dark brown can be exposed, which I think is more beautiful than the red, green, and brown in front. Mrs. Olivier took the hat off and put it on again as she spoke, trying to put it on front, back and sideways, but neither she nor Maria liked it. Don't wear it sideways, it doesn't suit your face shape, and it doesn't suit any face shape. It doesn't fit well, I think I still wear it just right. Well, I think it's safer that way. Mrs. Olivier took off her hat, and Maria helped her into a tailored light lavender-brown woolen dress and put her hat on.

You look so beautiful.Maria said. This is why Mrs. Olivia likes Maria. As long as she finds a little chance, she will express her approval and praise at the right time. Are you going to speak at the dinner party?Maria asked. speech!Mrs. Olivia said disgustedly: Of course not, you know I never give public speeches. Oh, I thought that those who participated in that kind of literary and artistic dinner party would give speeches on stage. This is the kind of dinner party you are going to, right?Well-known writers from 1973 or any other year will be present. I don't need to give a speech.Mrs. Olivia said: There are a few people who like to speak and they will speak on stage. They are much more eloquent than me.

I believe that as long as you put a little effort into it, you can speak wonderfully.Maria tried to coax. Impossible, said Mrs Olivier: I know what I can and cannot do.I couldn't give a speech, I would be nervous and anxious, and I would stutter or say the same thing twice.Not only do I look stupid, I look stupid.It's much easier to work with words, I can write them down, speak to a machine, or dictate.I know I can handle words as much as I know I can't speak. Well, I hope you are doing well, and I believe it will be.That was a big luncheon! Yes, said Madame Olivier despondently: a very grand luncheon.

Why, she thought, why must I go?She kept asking because she was in the habit of figuring out what she was doing instead of doing it and then wondering why she did it. I guess, she said to herself, because now the smell of jam overflowing from the stove made Maria hurry back to the kitchen.I just wanted to see what that was like.I keep getting invited to literary dinners and stuff, but I never go. Madame Olivier, who was enjoying the last course of the great feast, sighed contentedly and fiddled with the remaining meringues on her plate.She's particularly partial to meringues, and it's all the more fitting to have them last in a meal like this.But when you reach middle age, you have to watch out for meringues.her teeth?They look good, the biggest advantage is that they don't hurt, they are white and beautiful, just like the real thing.But they are not real teeth after all.If human teeth are not real teeth, Mrs. Olivier believes that they are not really high-grade materials.As far as she knew, dog teeth were really just dentin, and human teeth were just bone, or plastic if they were dentures.Either way, it's important not to let your dentures make you look ugly.Things like lettuce are hard to eat, as are salted almonds, nut-filled chocolates, sticky hard candies, and delicious but sticky meringues.She sighed contentedly to the last bite, and it was a good lunch, a very good lunch.

Mrs. Olivier likes an easy life, she is very satisfied with this lunch, and also likes these people at the same table.Fortunately, this dinner in celebration of women writers is not just for women writers, but for other writers, critics, and people who read for work.Mrs. Olivier sat between two charming men, she had always admired Edwin.Obin's poems, he is funny, has rich and interesting foreign travel experience, and various imaginative and personal adventure stories.He was also familiar with restaurants and delicacies, and they talked about food with great interest, and the topic of literature had long been put aside.

Wesley sitting on the other side.Sir Kent was also a good table companion, and he praised her work repeatedly, and said it with such tact that she did not embarrass herself, a skill many people never possess.He would give a reason or two why he liked certain books of hers, and these reasons sounded very pertinent, and Mrs. Olivier was very pleased with them.Mrs. Olivia thought, men's compliments are always so rewarding, unlike women who are always excited and eloquent.Think of the letters those women wrote her, really!Of course, it's not just women, sometimes some sentimental young people living in remote areas are like this.Just last week, she received a letter from a reader, beginning with: After reading your book, I think you are a noble woman; after reading "The Second Goldfish", he fell into a strong obsession state.Mrs. Olivier can only say that this is outrageous.It's not that she's being overly modest.Although she thinks that the detective stories she writes are the best among the same kind of novels, of course some are not very good, but some are much better than others, but even so, it is unreasonable to think that she is a noble woman.She is just lucky to have the gift of writing, and she has won the love of many readers.How lucky!Madame Olivia thought to herself.

Generally speaking, she has successfully passed this trial.Had a great lunch and chatted with some interesting people.At this time, everyone went to get coffee, and by the way, they changed their companions to chat with others.Mrs. Olivier knew that this was the most dangerous time, when other women might attack her and bombard her with false compliments, and she was always sad because she couldn't answer properly, because no answer would be appropriate at all.This kind of dialogue is like those model expressions provided by foreign travel books, such as: I must tell you that I love reading your books, they are truly brilliant. The bewildered writer replies: Well, that's great, I'm glad. You know what, I've been waiting for months to meet you and it's been amazing to meet you. Oh, it's very kind of you, really kind of you. The conversation continued like this, as if neither of them had anything else to say.The chat is either about your book or about other women's books if you happen to know hers.You are in the art circle, but you don't know the social skills in it.Some people are good at it, and Mrs. Olivier suffers from a lack of it.Once when she visited a foreign country with a diplomatic mission, a foreign friend taught her a lesson. I heard Albertina say in a charming and deep foreign accent: You answered a newspaper reporter's interview content, and you didn't show no!You are not showing due pride in your work.You should say: Yes, I write very well, I write better than other detective novelists. But I didn't. At that time, Mrs. Olivia replied: I am not bad, but Ouch, don't say I don't have these, you have to say you are, even if you don't think so, you should say yes. Albertina, Mrs. Olivier said: I wish you were interviewed by those reporters, you must be able to handle it very well.Can you pretend to be me in the future and let me eavesdrop behind the door? Of course, I figured I'd be fine, that must be fun.But they'll know I'm not you, they know you.You have to say: Yes, yes, I know I'm better than everyone else.You have to say that to everyone, not only let them know, but make them say it too.Oh wow, it's horrible to see you sitting there like you're apologizing for your accomplishments, don't do that next time. Madame Olivier thought that she was like a jerky actress trying to figure out a plot, and the director found that she couldn't learn it at all.Well, anyway, it's not that hard.Before everyone left the dining table, several women were already waiting. In fact, she had already seen one or two wandering around.It doesn't matter, she will walk over with a smile and say kindly: You are so kind, I am very happy, how happy to hear that someone likes my book!Just clichés, like getting a few words on a beaded chain out of a box, and after a while she can walk away. She looks around, maybe she can find some friends or so-called fans.Yes, she saw Maureen from a distance.Grant that funny guy.When the time came, the women writers and accompanying men stood up and rushed to the seats, coffee tables, sofas and hidden corners.It was a dangerous moment, Madame Olivier often thought, but only at parties, for she rarely attended meetings of men of letters.Dangers can arise at any time, such as someone who remembers you but you don't recognize them, or someone you don't want to talk to but can't avoid.This was the case with her first difficulty.It was a burly woman, with a row of huge white chewing teeth, who might be called une femme formidable in French (French for difficult woman).But she is definitely not just intimidating as described by the French, she is more domineering as the British call it.She evidently knew Mrs. Olivier, or was determined to make her acquaintance on the spot.The next situation is: Oh, Mrs. Olivier, she said, raising her voice: It is an honor to meet you. I have been looking forward to it for a long time.I really love your books and so does my son and my husband says he can't travel without a copy or two of yours.Come on, sit down, I have a lot to ask you. Well, thought Madame Olivier, I don't like this kind of woman, but everyone else is no different. Mrs. Olivier allowed her to command like a policeman. She was led to the loveseat across the corner. The new friend took the coffee and handed it to her, and put a cup in front of him. Let's just sit here.I suppose you don't know me, but I'm Mrs. Bordenka. oh yes Madame Olivier was as embarrassed as ever.Mrs Burdenka?Does she write books too?She really couldn't think of this person, but she seemed to have heard the name before.A vague memory flashed through her mind.Is it a book about politics?Not a novel at all, not a casual book, not a crime story, perhaps a serious treatise with a political bias?That's easy, Mrs. Olivia breathed a sigh of relief, and let her talk, how interesting it is as long as I talk from time to time!That's it. Really, what I have to say will surprise you.Mrs. Bodenka said: From your book, I feel that you are a kind person and you understand human nature very well.If anyone can answer this question for me, I think it is you. no, really Madame Olivier struggled to find the right words to express that she might not be able to take on the task. Mrs. Bordenka dipped a lump of sugar into her coffee, and chewed it gruntly, as if chewing a bone.Perhaps her teeth were ivory, thought Madame Olivier.Dentin?A dog's teeth are ivory, so are a walrus's, and of course, an elephant's too, and they're long and big.Mrs. Burdencar was saying: The first thing I'm going to ask you is that I'm pretty sure you're right: you have a goddaughter called Celia.Ravenk, right? oh! Mrs Olivier was pleasantly surprised.It was easier to talk about goddaughters; she had plenty of goddaughters and godchildren to talk about.She had to admit that as she got older, she often couldn't remember them.She does all the responsibilities like giving toys at Christmas when the kids are little, visiting their family occasionally, or having them visit you, sometimes picking up the boys from school , girls too.Then came the most important day, the child's twenty-first birthday, the godmother had to give a big gift for everyone to see, and it had to be decent; at their wedding, a similar gift had to be given, plus He Jin or something else as a blessing.After that, the godsons will get farther and farther away from you. They get married, go abroad, stationed in other places, teach abroad, or engage in various jobs. In short, they gradually disappear and go away.You'll be happy when they suddenly rise above the ground again, but you'll have to remember when you last saw them, whose children they were, and why you're their godmother. Celia.Ravenk, Mrs. Olivia racked her brains: Yes, yes, yes.Yes, there is this guy. She could not remember Celia.Ravenk's look.Can't remember, it's been too long.It was supposed to be christening time, she attended Celia's christening and she was given a really nice Queen Anne style silver colander.The things are exquisite, the filter milk is very useful, and someday when the goddaughter needs cash, she can sell it for a good price.Yes, she did remember the silver filter very well, made in Queen Anne's time in 1711, with the British mark on it.Apparently it is easier to remember the silver coffee pot, the colander, or the christening cup than the child. Yes, she said: yes, that's right, but I haven't seen Celia for a long time. Oh, that's how it is.She was an impulsive girl, said Mrs Bodenka: I mean, she changed her mind a lot.Of course she's smart and does well in school, it's just her political views but I guess young people these days have their own political views. I'm afraid I don't know much about politics.For Mrs. Olivier, politics was the most disgusting thing. Well, I'm ready to tell you a secret.I'll tell you why I'm asking for your opinion.You shouldn't mind. I've heard a lot of people say how kind and patient you are. Could it be that she wants to borrow money?Mrs. Olivier thought, many people who came to borrow money started like this. You know, this moment means a lot to me right now, and I really have to find out.Celia will, or rather thinks she will, marry my son Desmond. Oh, really!said Mrs Olivier. At least that's what they plan to do for now.Of course, people have to understand each other, and there are some things I'd like to find out.But it's unusual, I can't ask random people, I can't go, well, I mean, I can't just ask random strangers.But I don't think you are a stranger, dear Mrs. Olivier. Madame Olivier thought, I hope you think I am.She was getting uneasy, wondering if Celia had an illegitimate child, or was she expecting a child?Did she think that she, Mrs. Olivier, knew about it and could explain it in detail?Wouldn't that be embarrassing.Speaking of which, Mrs. Olivia thought again, I haven't seen her for five or six years, and she should be twenty-five or six years old, so just say that I don't know anything. Madame Burdenka leaned forward and breathed heavily: I'm asking you because I'm sure you know about it, or have a good idea of ​​what's going on.Did her mother kill her father, or did her father kill her mother? Mrs. Olivier hadn't expected such a question at all, and she stared at Mrs. Bordenka in disbelief. But I don't. She pauses: I don't understand.i mean why Dear Mrs. Olivier, you must know, right?This thing is such a sensation.Of course, it's been a long time, um, at least ten or twelve years, but at the time it got so much attention, I'm sure you remember it, you should. Mrs. Olivia thought desperately.It was indeed true that Celia was her goddaughter.Celia's mother is right, Celia's mother was originally named Molly.Pestonque, her friend, but not particularly close, married a soldier, Sir Ravenk.Or is he a diplomat?It's strange that I can't remember it.She couldn't even remember if she had been Molly's bridesmaid, maybe she had, the wedding was quite fashionable, and it was held at Gochepo or somewhere.But she really forgot all about it.They didn't see each other for many years after that, and they moved elsewhere.Is it the Middle East, Persia or Iraq?Was it in Egypt for a while, or Malaysia?They met once when they were back in England, but looking at them was like looking at a photograph, you vaguely remembered the people in the photograph but it was faded and you couldn't really recognize anyone or remember who they were.Now she can't think of Sir Ravenk and Molly.Mrs. Ravenk of Pestongkui had any deep friendship with him, probably not.But Mrs. Bordenka still stared at her, as if to regret her lack of savoir︱faire (French: ability, talent) to remember the cause celebrity (French: famous case). killed?Do you mean accident? Oh no, not an accident.It happened in a house by the sea, probably in Cornwall, in a rocky place where they had a house.They both lay dead on the cliff, you know, shot dead.But the police have no way of determining whether the wife killed her husband and then committed suicide, or whether the husband shot his wife and then committed suicide.They analyzed various evidence, bullets and other things, but found it difficult.The police speculate that it may have been a suicide.I forgot the verdict at the time, it seemed to be closed on the grounds of accident or something.But everyone knew that there was a reason, so there were many rumors at that time. Maybe everyone made up a story.Madame Olivier tried hopefully to recall a story or two she might have heard. Well, it's possible, it's hard to say, I know.Some said they had had a big fight that day or the other day;I think things will quiet down quickly, mainly because General Ravenk's position is quite high.It is said that he often stayed in a nursing home that year, and his body seemed to be very weak, and he couldn't even figure out what he was doing. Unfortunately, Mrs. Olivia said firmly: I really don't know anything about it.It was your mention just now that made me think of such a case, remember those names, and those people I knew.But I don't know anything, I really don't know anything Madame Olivier wished she had the courage to say: Why are you so rude to ask me something I don't know? This thing is very important to me.said Mrs. Bodenka, her cold eyes shining brightly: it is very important, you know, my son, my dear child, is going to marry Celia. Sorry I can't be of more help.Mrs Olivier said: I don't know anything. But you must know, said Mrs. Boddenka: you write so many good stories and know crime so well, you know who the murderers are and why they commit crimes.Anyone who cares about these cases will definitely be able to tell you the inside story behind the incident. I do not know anything.Mrs. Olivier said, her voice no longer so polite, her tone clearly bored. But you know, I really don't know who else to ask.I mean, it's been so long, you can't ask the police, can you?They probably won't tell me anything because obviously they just want to keep it under wraps, but I think it's necessary to get the truth out. I can only write books, Mrs. Olivier said coldly: they are completely fictional, I don't know crime personally, and I don't have any research on criminology.So, sorry, I'm completely clueless. But you can ask your goddaughter, ask Celia. Ask Celia!Mrs. Olivia's eyes widened again: How could I do such a thing!She was just a child when this tragedy happened. Oh, but I think she knows very well.Mrs. Bodenka said: A child knows everything.She'll tell you, I'm sure she'll tell you. I think you'd better ask her yourself.said Mrs Olivier. I can't do this kind of thing.Mrs. Bordencar said: You know, Desmond will be unhappy, he is very sorry, he has a lot of heart when it comes to Celia.I really can't I believe she will tell you. I can't possibly ask her.Mrs. Olivier pretended to look at her watch.Oh my God, she said: We've been at this lovely dinner for so long.I have to go quickly, I have a very important appointment.Goodbye, uh, Madam Baba Daka, I'm sorry I can't be of more help, these things are indeed sensitive In your opinion, is it really that important? Oh, I think it's pretty important. At this time, Mrs. Olivier's familiar literary friend happened to pass by, and Mrs. Olivier jumped up and grabbed her arm. Louise, dear, it's good to see you, I didn't notice you were here too. Oh, Aridan, long time no see, you look so slimmer! Your mouth is always so sweet, Mrs. Olivia said, taking her arm and leaving the sofa: I am leaving because I still have an appointment. I guess you're stuck with that horrible woman, right?The friend said, looking back at Mrs. Bordenka. She asked me a bunch of weird questions.said Mrs Olivier. Oh, can't you answer? No way, because that's none of my business, I don't know anything.Also, I don't want to answer. Is it funny? I think, as Mrs. Olivia said, a new thought flashed across: I think it should be very interesting, but She came after her.The friend said: Come this way, I will accompany you out, if you do not come by car, I will drive you to where you are going. I never drive in London, it's so hard to park. I know, it's terribly rare. Mrs. Olivia entered the venue again to say goodbye politely, and after thanking happily, the car drove on the square in London in a while. You live in Eaton Hill, right?asked the kind friend. That's right, Mrs. Olivier said: But I'm going to be called the White Hills Mansion. I can't remember the name, but I know where it is. Oh, that apartment building is funky, square and geometric. Exactly.said Mrs Olivier.