“Why, hello, Doane,” he said.
Doane looked up. His voice was curiously kind. “Oh! How do, Babbitt.”
“Been away, eh?”
“Yes, I’ve been in Washington.”
“Washington, eh? How’s the old Government making out?”
“It’s— Won’t you sit down?”
“Thanks. Don’t care if I do. Well, well! Been quite a while since I’ve had a good chance to talk to you, Doane. I was, uh— Sorry you didn’t turn up at the last class-dinner.”
“Oh—thanks.”
“How’s the unions coming? Going to run for mayor again?”
Doane seemed restless. He was fingering the pages of his book. He said “I might” as though it didn’t mean anything in particular, and he smiled.