“Cleveland,” replied his son, shaking hands heartily, and smiling.
“Robert tells me you’ve been to New York.”
“Yes, I was there.”
“How did you find my old friend Arnold?”
“Just about the same,” returned Lester. “He doesn’t look any older.”
“I suppose not,” said Archibald Kane genially, as if the report were a compliment to his own hardy condition. “He’s been a temperate man. A fine old gentleman.”
He led the way back to the sitting-room where they chatted over business and home news until the chime of the clock in the hall warned the guests up-stairs that dinner had been served.
Lester sat down in great comfort amid the splendors of the great Louis Quinze dining-room. He liked this homey home atmosphere—his mother and father and his sisters—the old family friends. So he smiled and was exceedingly genial.
Louise announced that the Leverings were going to give a dance on Tuesday, and inquired whether he intended to go.
“You know I don’t dance,” he returned dryly. “Why should I go?”