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room, but it was also an apartment house room. There were two desks in it, With a small desk over on the side. I think there was a third man over on the other side. He was a slight young man who looked intelligent and whom I later learned was the private secretary to Mr. Doak - a very good, intelligent stenographer. These other two men were typical politicians who were busy on the telephone all the time about nothing in particular. I never did fully understand their functions. They were apparently the political fixers and they did do a lot of political fixing. They were as polite as they knew how to be. They were clumsy, big, and political looking, and not very polite, but as polite as they knew how to be. I held no feeling against them. They didn't know any better.

What struck me almost immediately was that none of these rooms was apparently picked up with a team ready to leave. Their desks were covered with papers and things. There were no signs of packing anywhere. There was the sense of being there forever.

Then I said that I had come to see Mr. Doak, and so forth. They were pleasant. The young stenographer said, “I'll see if he's free.” He went into another office and came out with the news that Mr. Doak would like me to come right in, which we did.