“I am ordinarily addressed as “Your Grace,” she said.
“But I think that would be a bit awkward, wouldn’t it? My Christian name is Elizabeth.”
“Isn’t that the other extreme?” Canidy asked. “Please,” she said softly.
“You and I seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot.” He’s thinking that over, the insufferable bastard! “Okay,” he said.
“We’ll start all over. Put your package down and have some breakfast, The cooks don’t show until half past six, so I’m afraid it’ll have to be an omelet.”
“A sudden rage swept through her, unstoppable.
“My God, you Americans are something! “Since there’s nothing decent to he had, we’ll have to make do with an omelet’! ” He looked at her curiously. “Is there something wrong with an omelet?” he asked. “Do you know what the British egg ration is?”
“No, and I don’t really give a damn,’ Canidy said. They locked eyes for a minute, then she gave in. “Sorry,” she said. No,” Canidy said.”
Sorry won’t wash. Let’s have it out in the open. “I beg your pardon?”
“I don’t like your attitude, Duchess , Canidy said.
“I may have to put up with those arrogant bastards at SOE, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to put up with you. I don’t like the way you came in here last night, playing captain without letting me know this is your house. And I have no intention of putting up with a litany of ‘what’ wrong with you Americans is’ s from you, duchess or no duchess. Whittaker here ate cavalry horses in the Philippines until the horses ran out-” “Hey, Dick-” Whittaker tried to interrupt, but Canidy was not to be stopped.
-and neither of us needs any lectures on short rations from the likes of you. If you feel uncomfortable eating our fresh egg omelets, Your Grace, I think you should ask to be reassigned. As long as I’m running this place, I’m going to get my hands on and pass out to the people here all the god damned luxuries-from fresh eggs to high-class whores-that I can.
And I don’t want you standing around with a corncob up your ass looking down your aristocratic nose at us.”
“Jesus Christ!
Dick!” Whittaker said. The duchess of Stan field took a moment to find her voice. Then she said, “Perhaps it would be best if someone else were assigned to Raise with you, Major Canidy. And now, if you’ll please excuse me?” She marched out of the kitchen and down the corridor to what had been the downstairs housekeeper’s broom closet, closed the door, threw herself on the folding cot, and with a great deal of effort managed to keep from crying. She thought she was going to look like a bloody fool when she had to report back to the War Office that she had immediately gotten into it with the man she was supposed to liaise with over something as bloody silly as how many eggs the Americans had. She could also report, of course, that they apparently spent much of their time drunk, and that they considered it great fun to steal automobiles from one another. The problem was that the War Office didn’t give a damn about such things. They would simply see that she had failed. What I am going to have to do is go to the bastard and apologize. And sound as if I mean it. She pushed herself off the bed. And he properly dressed when I do it. She picked the bundle off the floor and unrolled it on the bed.
She picked out underwear, then started to take off her shirt. There was a knock at the door. “Yes? Who is it?”
“Room service,” a voice she recognized as Captain Whittaker’s called cheerfully. She went to the door and pulled it open. He had found a butler’s cart somewhere. It was covered with food: ham, eggs, toast, and what certainly-since it was American-was genuine strawberry marmalade.”
No matter what,” he said,” you have to eat.
THE SECRET WARRIORS V 271
“I made a fool of myself in there, didn’t V’ she asked. He rolled the cart to a chair at the far end of the bed and stood behind it like a waiter. “I don’t know what happened between you two last night,” he said. “But I know what’s generally wrong with him. “Generally wrong with him?”