Knowlton went on: "Still, I think it's bad business to keep away from them; we've got to know them. They haven't chased after us, so we must chase after them."
"Is there ever any other motive in your mind than a business one?" I exploded in disgust. This merely produced a particularly fiendish grin from Knowlton.
"Little inclined to kick over the traces tonight, aren't you, Ted? I don't blame you. You've had too long a dose without the right kind of relaxation. There must be plenty of nice people here if we could only get in touch with them. Better get out your Tuxedo and have it pressed. We'll open a social campaign."
I paid little attention to Knowlton's latest plan; he was full of new schemes each day, all aimed at extending the scope of our business connections. Several days passed, and, as I heard no more of his calculated social ambitions, I concluded that pressure of more important affairs had mercifully excluded this new idea from his mind. Then one afternoon my call sounded on the buzzer, and I reported at the office.
Knowlton greeted me with the customary grin. "Busy out in the laboratory?"
"No more than usual," I replied noncommittally. I had learned that when Knowlton introduced a subject with a prelude of this kind it usually meant extra work was about to be proposed.
"No experiment that will keep you this evening?" he queried. Should I start one as a measure of self-protection and then say "Yes," or should I chance whatever new plan Knowlton had on foot and step into his obvious trap? I decided on the latter course for the sake of variety.
"No," I answered. "I shall close down with the whistle."
"Good. Then I have a dinner invitation for you—now, you are to go, Ted, it's no use putting your back up. I've practically accepted."
"Are you going?" I asked suspiciously.