"We're in the kitchen," she called out, when the visitor's step was heard, and Don Armando entered.
"Tiens!" he exclaimed, with his nasal Spanish accent, and nothing in his expression indicated whether or not he was displeased to see Grover. "When the prime minister is away, on se fiche de la république, quoi!"
"Oh, non!" Olga laconically retorted, "on fait la cuisine. You arrive too late to help make lunch, but you may help eat it. It will be good."
"That I am certain of. But unfortunately I can't stay."
Grover offered Don Armando a cigarette, which the Spaniard politely declined in favor of his own brand of Russian cigarettes, with long paper mouthpieces.
"I merely called," he explained, "to ask if you wouldn't come to the theatre with me this evening, and have supper with some friends."
"Je regrette, Monsieur. I have promised my aunt."
"I seem to have arrived too late for everything," said Don Armando.
The omelette was sizzling, the two unnecessary eggs having been thriftily replaced. "Mais, Monsieur," Olga ignored the implications of his remark, "If everyone were always on time, all the charm of accident would be lost."
Grover, hoping she was thinking of their own first accidental meeting, when Léon had arrived too late,
