I blew up the embers (we had not yet arranged a winter kitchen), and quite feverishly cooked the breakfast.

Toward the end, I heard her moving about within the hut, making her toilet.

Just as all was ready and the coffee poured, the door opened and she came forth.
"It's not fair of you," was her greeting.

"You are usurping one of my prerogatives.

You know you I agreed that the cooking should be mine, and--" "But just this once," I pleaded.
"If you promise not to do it again," she smiled.