“I had a better one. At eight-fifteen Thursday morning I descended two flights, entered the kitchen, exchanged good mornings with Fritz, picked up my ten-ounce glass of orange juice, took that first sour-sweet sip, which is always the first hint that the fog is going to lift, and inquired, 'No omelet?' Fritz shut the refrigerator door. 'You well know, Archie, what it means when the eggs are not broken.' 'Sure, but I'm hungry.' It meant that when Fritz had taken Wolfe's breakfast tray up to his r...oom he had been told that I was wanted, and he would not break eggs until he heard me coming down again. I will not gulp orange juice, so after a second sip I took it along-up a flight, left to the door standing open at the end of the hall, and in. Wolfe, barefooted, a yellow mountain in his pajamas, was in his next-to-favourite chair at the table by a window, spooning raspberry jam onto a griddle cake. I returned his greeting and went on, 'Copies of The Moth That Ate Peanuts and Barrage at Dawn are probably available at the publishers', but it might take days to dig up the magazines with Jane Ogilvy's poems.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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