Two teapots, surrounded by delicate cups and saucers, anchored the table’s center. Bridget poured. Branching out from either side were small plates and linen napkins.
“They eat by turns. First the finger sandwiches. So pretty.” Anandibai pointed. “Then they’ll go back for tea cakes. And lastly the meringues.” Anandibai sighed. “It’s the only time I wish I could eat eggs and lard.”
Mano stood transfixed. “Mama, please can I have one of those tiny cakes?”
“No, darling. We don’t eat eggs.”
“I don’t see eggs.”
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