“The order never varies. Two slices of bread-and-butter each, and China tea. What a hide-bound couple we must seem, clinging to custom because we did so in England. Here, on this clean balcony, white and impersonal with centuries of sun, I think of half-past-four at Manderley, and the table drawn before the library fire. The door flung open, punctual to the minute, and the performance, never-varying, of the laying of the tea, the silver tray, the kettle, the snowy cloth.”

“How long have I been here, what a question, I've often wondered. And often I could answer, An hour, a month, a year, a century, depending on what I meant by here, and me, and being, and there I never went looking for extravagant meanings, there I never much varied, only the here would sometimes seem to vary. ”

“In a few minutes tea was brought. Very delicate was the china, very old the plate, very thin the bread-and-butter, and very small the lumps of sugar. Sugar was evidently Mrs. Jamieson's favourite economy.”

“My hour for tea is half-past five, and my buttered toast waits for nobody.”

“I shouldn't think even millionaires could eat anything nicer than new bread and real butter and honey for tea.”

“Ravel said. “And I order people around really well. This morning, Tipstaff came over with a cup of tea and I told him no, I don’t want tea I want coffee. That was great. I really asserted my authority.”“Did he go and get you a coffee?”“No, he said he’d already made a pot of tea so I took the tea because, you know he’d already made it, but my authority was still firmly asserted.”Ghastly nodded. “He’ll think twice about making tea again.”“That he will, Ghastly my friend, that he will. What are we looking for, by the way?“Seriously? I gave you the file half an hour ago.”“Yes, you did.”“And did you read it?”“No, I did not.”