"I'd venture to say, Mr. Howell, that the Major is simply being modest," Mr. Needham said.
"I suppose that's possible," the Old Man said, visibly pleased. "Unlikely, but possible." He changed the subject: "Well, at least we've had the chance to make sure the portrait is technically accurate, haven't we? There was a problem of time. My grandson returns to duty tomorrow."
"Oh, is that so?" Needham replied. "Where are you going, Major? Or isn't a civilian supposed to ask? 'Loose Lips Sink Ships'?"
"Actually, I'm going to Buenos Aires," Clete said. "And, so far as I know, that's not a military secret."
"Buenos Aires?" Needham asked.
"It's in Argentina," the Old Man offered helpfully.
"About as far from the war as you can get," Clete said.
"Thank God for that," Martha said.
"Cletus has been appointed Assistant Naval Attach‚ at our embassy there," the Old Man said.
"That sounds very interesting," Needham said. "I don't know anything about Argentina, except, you know, what is it they call their cowboys?"
"Gauchos," Clete said.
"And lovely dark-eyed Se¤oritas..."
"And some lovely blue-eyed Se¤oritas," Clete said, thinking of one of the latter in particular.
"Oh, really?" Martha said, picking up on that. "Has your blue-eyed Se¤orita got a name?"
"You sound like you've been there before," Needham said, sparing Clete from having to respond to Martha.
"Yes, I have."
"Unfortunately, he was born there," the Old Man said.
"Really?"
Clete gave the Old Man a warning look. The Old Man met his eyes defi-antly, but after a moment, backed off.
"I hope you haven't made plans for dinner, Cletus," the Old Man said. "For reasons I can't imagine, Martha just told me she wants to go to Arnaud's."
"No, Sir," Clete said. "I was planning to have dinner here, with you."
"Another indication that you're not playing with a full deck," the Old Man said. "Why in the world would you prefer to have dinner with me, as opposed to having dinner with a young woman very likely to be dazzled by your uniform and medals?"
"Because you are my grandfather, and despite some monumental flaws of your own, I would rather spend time with you than anyone else I can think of except Martha."
The Old Man looked at him. Tears formed in his eyes. He turned and went to the wall and pulled the call bell.
Jean-Jacques Jouvier appeared almost immediately.
"Call Arnaud's," the Old Man ordered, his voice sounding strange. "Tell them I require a private dining room for three at eight. Tell them-understand-ing this dinner is important to me-they may prepare whatever they wish. Arrange for the car at 7:45. And when you've done that, bring us another round of Sazeracs."
Jean-Jacques nodded and left the room.
The Old Man looked at Clete, then pointed at the uniform tunic on the red leather couch.
"Since it's already off its hanger, would it be inconvenient for you to wear
that?"