7 — Things Move
"It's not a Christian life at all," said Mrs. Field as she put the inevitable bacon and eggs in front of him. Mrs. Field had tried to cure Grant of the bacon-and-eggs habit by providing wonderful breakfasts with recipes culled from her daily paper, and kidneys and other «favours» wrested from Mr. Tomkins at the threat of withdrawing her custom, but Grant had defeated her — as he defeated most people in time. He still had bacon and eggs, Saturday, Sunday, Monday. It was now eight o'clock on Sunday morning, which was the fact that had called forth Mrs. Field's remark. «Unchristian» in Mrs. Field's vocabulary meant not any lack of conformity but an absence of comfort and respectability. The fact that he was having breakfast before eight on a Sunday morning shocked her infinitely more than the fact that his day was to be spent in the most mundane of work. She grieved over him.
"It's a wonder to me that the King doesn't give you inspectors decorations oftener than he does. What other man in London is having breakfast at this hour when he needn't!"
"In that case I think inspectors' landladies should be included in the decoration. Mrs. Field, O.B.E. - for being an inspector's landlady."
"Oh, the honour's enough for me without the decoration," she said.
"I'd like to think of a good rejoinder to that, but I never could say graceful things at breakfast. It takes a woman to be witty at eight in the morning."
"You'd be surprised really at the standing it gives me, you being an inspector at Scotland Yard."
I "Does it really?"
"It does; but don't you be afraid. I keep my mouth shut. Nothing ever comes out through me. There's lots would like to know what the inspector thought, or who came to see the inspector, but I just sit and let them hint. You don't have to see a hint unless you like."
"It is very noble of you, Mrs. Field, to achieve a reputation for obtuseness for my sake."