Nelson asked a question. "What kind of factories have they got?"
"Old-fashioned," answered Robert Kimberly.
"In public affairs, I don’t know. In trade they are not dangerous, though MacBirney is ambitious and full of energy. The father-in-law was a fine old fellow. But he died just before the reorganization. I don’t know how much money they’ve got now."
"We bother them a good deal from San Francisco," continued Robert Kimberly, reflecting, "but that is expensive. Ultimately we must own more factories in Colorado. Of course, as far as that goes, I would rather build new plants than remodel rat-hospitals."
Charles Kimberly straightened up and turned himself in his chair. "Ten years of peace is worth a good deal to us. And if MacBirney can insure that, we ought to have it. All of this," he appealed to Robert, as he spoke, "is supposing that you are willing to assent."
"I do not assent, chiefly because I distrust MacBirney. If the rest of you are satisfied to take him in, go ahead."
"Then there is nothing more to be said. Let’s get at the depreciation charges and the estimates for next year’s betterments, so we can go over the new capitalization."
While the conference went on, the muffled hum of gathering motor-cars came through the open windows.
Robert Kimberly leaving the two men, walked downstairs again. The rooms were filling with the overflow from the dance. They who had come were chiefly of the married set, though boys and girls were among them.
After the manner of those quite at home, the dancers, still wearing their flower leis, were scattered in familiar fashion about small tables where refreshment was being served.
At one end of the music room a group applauded a clever young man, who, with his coat cuffs rolled back, was entertaining with amateur sleight-of-hand.
At the other end of the room, surrounded by a second group, Fritzie Venable played smashing rag-time. About the tables pretty, overfed married women, of the plump, childless type, with little feet, fattening hands, and rounding shoulders, carried on a running chatter with men younger than their husbands.
A young girl, attended at her table by married men, was trying to tell a story, and to overcome unobserved, her physical repugnance to the whiskey she was drinking.