Coffee, bacon, and hotcakes suited him perfectly.

But just for meanness, because he felt mean and he wanted to act mean, he sliced the potatoes and the onions into the frying pan, and, to make his work artistically complete, he let them burn and stick to the pan,--after he had his bacon and hotcakes fried, of course! He sat down and began to eat.

And presently Cash crawled out into the warm room filled with the odor of frying onions, and dressed himself with the detached calm of the chronically sulky individual.

Not once did the manner of either man betray any consciousness of the other's presence.

Unless some detail of the day's work compelled them to speech, not once for more than three weeks had either seemed conscious of the other.
Cash washed his face and his hands, took the side of bacon, and cut three slices with the precision of long practice.