“I’ll agree this much, Alan,” I said, “though I know much of what you’ve said is true: our American failure has been the failure to produce a continuing class of leadership. If those who are born to lead, who ought to be educated to lead, won’t lead, they must take the consequences. And I’m hitting my own kind!”
“Particularly as others are preparing to take that leadership.”
When I left, I put out a hand with a genuine admiration and affection.
“Well, Alan, it’s pretty late to be finding it out, isn’t it, but I’m glad I’ve really got to know you.”
“Oh, that’s all right,” he said gruffly, but pleased nevertheless. “Drop around. Lots more to be settled in the old world. I say, Davy, I wonder what Ben would have thought of my heresies?”
We broke into a hearty laugh at this, and I went out.
When I reached the hotel, I sat down and wrote out a little of the conversation to Bernoline. For I am anxious to know what she, with every instinct opposed, will say to it.
“Queer duck, Alan,” said Ben that night at table. “How long did you stay?”
“About an hour or two.”
“Could you get him to talk?”