His eyes shone, nevertheless, as Clem set a cup of coffee at his elbow
and brought a plate.
"May I ask when you arrived?" I questioned.
"Only last evening."
"Then you dined at the City Hotel?"
"Major Blake, I will be honest with you--I _did!_"
"Clem, another omelette, quick--but first fetch some oranges, then put
on a lot more of that Virginia ham and mix up some waffles, too. Hurry
along!"
"Really, you are very good, Major."
"Not that," I answered modestly; "I've merely eaten at the City Hotel."
But I doubt if he heard, for he lovingly inhaled the aroma of his coffee
with half-shut eyes.
"I am delighted to have met you," he said. "If ever you come to New
York--" He tore himself from the omelette long enough to scribble the
name of a club on the card by my plate.
"I rarely crave more than coffee and a roll in the morning," he
continued, after the second omelette, the ham, the waffles, and more
coffee had been consumed. "I fancy it's your bracing air."
I fancied it was only the City Hotel, but I did not revert to that.
When at last Mr. Price lighted a cigar which I had procured at an
immense distance from Slocum County, he spoke of furniture, also of
Cohen.
Pages:
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298