“I s’pose it’ll take quite a few years,” said Mr. Wrenn, conversationally.
“Yuh. I s’pose it will.”
Silence.
Mr. Wrenn sat trying to think of something else to say. Lonely people in city restaurants simply do not get acquainted. Yet he did manage to observe, “Great building that’ll be,” in the friendliest manner.
Silence.
Then the fat man went on:
“Wonder what Wolgast will do in his mill? Don’t believe he can stand up.”
Wolgast was, Mr. Wrenn seemed to remember, a pugilist. He agreed vaguely:
“Pretty hard, all right.”
“Go out to the areoplane meet?” asked the fat man.