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recognition of various friends andacquaintances, many of whom were not the people she thought they were. She and Miss Marpletalked a little of "old days," thoughMiss Marple's upbringing, of course, had been quite differentfrom Lady Selina's, and their reminiscences were mainlyconfined to the few years when Lady Selina, a recent widow of severely straitened means,had taken a small house in the village of St. Mary Mead during the time her second son hadbeen stationed at an airfield nearby.
　　"Do you always stay here when you come up, Jane?Odd I haven't seen you here before."
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　　"Oh no, indeed. I couldn't afford to, and anyway, I hardly ever leave home these days. No, it was avery kind niece of mine who thought it would be a treat for me to have a short visit toLondon. Joan is a very kind girl – at least perhaps hardly agirl." Miss Marple reflected with a qualm that Joan must nowbe close to fifty. Joan West. She had an exhibition not long ago.
　　Lady Selina had little interest in painters, orindeed in anything artistic. She regarded writers, artists and musicians as a species ofclever performing animals; she was prepared to feel indulgent towards them, but to wonderprivately why they wanted to do what they did.
　　"This modern stuff, I suppose," she said, her eyes wandering. "There's Cicely Longhurst – dyed hair again, I see."