Luncheon, for which Li Ho had provided eggs both boiled and fried, was eaten alone.

His hostess did not honor him with her company, nor did her father return.

Li Ho was attentive but silent And outside the rain still rained.
Professor Spence lay and counted the drops as they fell from a knot hole in the veranda roof--one small drop--two medium-sized drops--one big drop--as if some unseen djinn were measuring them out in ruthless monotony.

He counted the drops until his brain felt soggy and he began to speculate upon what Aunt Caroline would think of fried eggs for luncheon.

He wondered why there were no special dishes for special meals in Li Ho's domestic calendar; why all things, to Li Ho, were good (or bad) at all times?
Would he give them porridge and bacon for dinner?
Spence decided that he didn't mind.