“I’ll pepper the eggs,” Lowry said. “You get your hands on that pepper-shaker and you might find some way of unscrewing the top and getting a fistful of pepper.
“And don’t reach for that coffee,” he said, as I started to reach for the pot of hot coffee. “I’ll pour the coffee. No, I won’t either. Babe, you pour the coffee.”
Lowry moved his chair back a few feet, and said, “Don’t make a move, Lam. Don’t try any smart stuff. I’ll be right back.”
He stepped into the other room, leaving the door open, and a moment later came back carrying a revolver. “Now,” he said, “this will get you over any ideas you might have of throwing hot coffee in my eyes.”
I choked down the greasy eggs, had some toast and coffee. The coffee was fairly good, but I was having trouble with the food.
Lowry watched me eat, and laughed. He said, “You’re having to swallow twice with every mouthful.”
“What’s the idea?” I asked. “Are you trying to criticize Babe’s cooking? I don’t seem to stand much chance of getting along, no matter what I do.”
He watched me while I finished eating the eggs and sipped my second cup of coffee.
He said. “You sit right there in that chair. No matter what happens don’t move out of that chair. Do you understand?” I yawned, and said, “It suits me all right. I was going to give your wife a hand with the dishes.”
“His wife,” the redhead said, and then laughed.