"You mean he hasn't paid much attention to me." Deacon smiled grimly. "Well, that's all right. As a matter of fact, I never really have got to know him. Still, I haven't got to know many of the fellows. Too busy. You haven't paid much attention to me, either; but I like you."
Rollins, whose father was a multimillionaire with family roots going deep among the rocks of Manhattan Island, laughed.
"Bully for you! You won't mind my saying so, Jim, but I had it in my mind to ask you to be a bit inconsequential—especially when Doane was around—about your taking his place. But I guess it isn't necessary."
"No,"—Deacon's voice was short—"it isn't."
"Junior Doane, of course, will be hard hit. He'll be game. He'll try to win back his seat. And he may; I warn you."
"If he can win it back, I want him to."
"Good enough!" The captain started to walk away, then turned back with sudden interest. "By the way, Jim, I was looking through the college catalogue this morning. You and Doane both come from Philadelphia, don't you?"
"Yes."
"I asked Doane if he knew you there. Apparently not."
"No, he didn't." Deacon paused as though deliberating. Suddenly he spoke. "I knew of him, though. You see, my father works in the bank of which Mr. Doane is president."