For the first few days after the father and son had gone into bachelor
quarters at the Inter-Mountain, the returned exile was left almost
wholly to his own devices. Beyond giving him a good many introductions,
as the opportunities for them offered in the stirring life of the hotel,
his father made few demands upon him, and they were together only at
luncheon and dinner, the midday meal being usually served in their
suite, while for the dinner they met by appointment in the hotel _cafe_.
Notwithstanding this hospitable neglect on the part of his father, Evan
Blount suffered no lack of the social opportunities. Gantry was back,
and, in addition to a most ready availability as a social sponsor, the
traffic manager was both able and willing. Almost before he had time to
realize it, Blount had been put in touch with the busy, breezy life of
the Western city, was exchanging nods or hand-shakings with more people
than he had ever known in Cambridge or Boston, and was receiving more
invitations than he could possibly accept.
"Pretty good old town, isn't it?" laughed Gantry one day, when he had
tolled Blount away from the Inter-Mountain luncheon to share a table
with him in the Railway Club. "Getting so you feel a little more at home
with us?"
"If I'm not, it isn't your fault, Dick, or the fault of your friends.
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