Bread soup was placed upon the table. Ah, said the Herr Rat, leaning upon the table as he peered into the tureen, that is what I need. My ‘magen’ has not been in order for several days. Bread soup, and just the right consistency. I am a good cook myself -he turned to me. How interesting, I said, attempting to infuse just the right amount of enthusiasm into my voice. Oh yes-when one is not married it is necessary. As for me, I have had all I wanted from women without marriage. He tucked his napkin into his collar and blew upon his soup as he spoke. Now at nine o'clock I make myself an English breakfast, but not much. Four slices of bread, two eggs, two slices of cold ham, one plate of soup, two cups of tea-that is nothing to you. He asserted the fact so vehemently that I had not the courage to refute it.All eyes were suddenly turned upon me. I felt I was bearing the burden of the nation’s preposterous breakfast-I who drank a cup of coffee while buttoning my blouse in the morning.