"No references." I thought that would stump him, but on the contrary he looked rather pleased.
"That is good.

References are too frequently evidence of back-stairs influence." All this while he kept eying me between mouthfuls.

Whenever I seemed to look away his eyes fairly burned holes in me.

Whenever food got in his beard (which was frequently) be used the napkin more as a shield behind which to take stock of me than as a means of getting clean again.

By the time his breakfast was finished his beard was a beastly mess, but he probably had my features from every angle fixed indelibly in his memory.