"Buenas noches, señorita," said Gardiner, politely removing his cigarette.
"O-o-oh—it's you," said Lettice with striking originality.
"The curse is come upon me!" suggested Gardiner. His smile widened. "Exactly. You look so pleased!"
Lettice, after that first involuntary pause of dismay, had come into the room; she stood by the table, slowly, slowly drawing off her gloves.
"Well, of course I'm pleased; but why, why, why didn't you let me know? You said you weren't coming out till next week!"
"So sorry, but I didn't know myself. It was little Scott worked the oracle—said I was in a bad way or something." Lettice said nothing, but her chin had a mutinous cock. "Shall I go back again?"
"If you'd let me know in time," said Lettice, "I'd have got you something nice for tea. Now you'll have to put up with what there is."
That minute offended voice, that reproachful pianissimo drawl! Gardiner laughed out.
"Lettice, you're inimitable! I swear you haven't turned a hair! Do you know—do you know you've got the same button off the same coat?"