"Fine—uh, Arthur." He thought resignedly that you have to go along with these characters. And maybe, for God's sake, Chesbro actually did remember Bess and did remember hearing about Ted and actually did wish them well. Maybe.
"I see you've met my wife, Henry. Well, it looks like quite a nasty downpour, doesn't it?"
Now he's talking about the weather, for God's sake, to put me at my ease and get the conversation going on a topic of universal interest. Always start by talking about the weather; nobody's so shy or so stupid that he can't think of something to say about the weather. Well, sir, this time the maxim was going to backfire in Arthur Chesbro's red face. "Glad you mentioned that, Arthur," the burgess said briskly. "I'm leaving now. I'm afraid we're in for something worse than we got in thirty-five and thirty-nine, and I'm going to cruise around and have a look-see. I don't know why you came to see me on a dirty night like this, but if you can't put it in a nutshell it'll have to wait."
Arthur Chesbro was disconcerted. "Didn't you see the story in the paper yesterday, Henry?"
"I've been mighty busy," the burgess apologized, getting into his raincoat.
"Well, it said, roughly—well, never mind the story. What I want to do is take the old Swanscomb Mill off the borough's hands and put a tidy rental into the communal pocket—and hire a few of your local people."
"Sounds fine," the burgess said. He started for the door. "But there's a fellow with a plant in Brooklyn who's interested too. I understood he's coming out to see us about it, but I suppose this weather'll hold him up. I think we'd better table this matter until I hear from him and have a chance to compare the offers. Now, if you'll excuse me—"
"I never thought," said Chesbro flatly, "that I'd see a neighbor selling out to foreign interests when he has a bid from a local man."
The burgess took his hand off the doorknob and looked at Chesbro steadily up and down. "I don't like your language worth a damn," he said. "I'd give you a lecture on manners if I didn't have more important things to do. You can find your way out, can't you?"
Chesbro's eyes dropped, but the burgess thought he could read a look of calculation on his face. "Sorry," he said. "By the way, my car is just up the hill. Can I help out?"