Richard Connell

“ Dawson studied intently the financial page of an evening newspaper, wrinkling his brow at the discovery that Unadulterated Petroleum had gone up six points although he had neither money nor any interest in the rise or fall of Unadulterated Petroleum or anything else. Dawson put down the paper and saw that Doan had finished reading his letter and was taking an active interest in a dish of curried mutton. Dawson ordered curried mutton, too. But he did not speak to Doan. What would a man like Doan think of him if he did? That sort of thing simply wasn't done in the Standish Club. ”

“ Dawson thought often of Doan's friends. He thought of the parties Doan went to, the dinners, the balls, the amusing, restful week-ends. He thought of the parties Doan gave in his pleasant rooms which must be on the upper East Side, respectably near Park Avenue. Here one met all sorts of interesting people—a young explorer just back from the fastnesses of Tibet; that scientist and his wife who were engaged in some fascinating research; a poet who read his own poems, and read them well; a broker who could discuss modern music as intelligently as he could municipal bonds ”

“ I've seen it often in the, mail-box at the club. Often wondered who you. were. Look here, Dawson, could you have lunch with me tomorrow?”
Another and less dramatic version of their meeting, as conceived by Francis Dawson, was that Doan found himself facing an extremely intricate problem in accounting in the course of his legal work. Its solution was vital to Doan's success and happiness. He was in despair. So Doan took his problem to the firm for which Francis Dawson worked. “There's only one man who can do this job,” they said to him. “Our Mr. Dawson.” ”

“ At the office he could not get down to work. The columns of figures ran together in a blur. At three o'clock they sent him to St. Margaret's Free Hospital. There they put him in a bed in a ward and told him he had an attack of influenza. ”