"I got to have my ham and eggs of a morning," he confided. "But she
won't let me have anything at that hotel but a continental breakfast,
which is nothing but coffee and toast and some of that there sauce
you're eating. She says when I'm on the continent I got to eat a
continental breakfast, because that's the smart thing to do, and not
stuff myself like I was on the ranch; but I got that game beat both
ways from the jack. I duck out every morning before she's up. I found
a place where you can get regular ham and eggs."

"Regular ham and eggs?" murmured the Honourable George.

"French ham and eggs is a joke. They put a slice of boiled ham in a
little dish, slosh a couple of eggs on it, and tuck the dish into the
oven a few minutes. Say, they won't ever believe that back in Red Gap
when I tell it. But I found this here little place where they do it
right, account of Americans having made trouble so much over the other
way. But, mind you, don't let on to her," he warned me suddenly.

"Certainly not, sir," I said. "Trust me to be discreet, sir."

"All right, then. Maybe we'll get on better than what I thought we
would. I was looking for trouble with you, the way she's been talking
about what you'd do for me."

"I trust matters will be pleasant, sir," I replied.

"I can be pushed just so far," he curiously warned me, "and no
farther--not by any man that wears hair."