“Of course. Shut the door. Perkins is one minute late and it will do him good to cool his heels.” Goldberg came out from behind his desk and sat down in one of two armchairs to the right of it. It was a subtly flattering gesture, as if he would consciously give up the advantage of sitting behind a desk. And it was a gesture symptomatic of his relation to Cavan, the man in the department for whom he had the greatest respect and at the same time the man who was among them all his real antagonist. For Goldberg did not approve of Edward Cavan’s emphasis on what he called the periphery of literature—economics, history, all that could be rolled up in the term “cultural historian.” He did not follow this modern fashion; he considered himself a purist. Cavan’s political activities not only made him uncomfortable, but actually made him suffer. He suffered that a professor of such distinction should make a fool of himself. He felt that it reflected on the University, but even worse, it diminished Cavan’s authority, and Cavan’s authority was necessary to him. He had chosen his enemy as other men choose their friends and he wanted his enemy to be immaculate, beyond reproach. “What’s on your mind, Edward?” he asked, taking a cigarette from a silver case and offering Edward one.

But he regretted the easy question as soon as he had asked it. It was clear and had been for sometime that too much was on Edward’s mind for anyone to speak of it casually. Edward was sitting forward in his chair, ill at ease, and more than usually crumpled-looking. He might at least keep his pants pressed, Ivan thought.

“You’re not going to like this, Ivan”—Edward looked up a moment, his chin forward a little, his eyes unsmiling.

“Well, what is it?” Goldberg sat back deliberately in his chair, the cigarette hanging from his lips so that the smoke curled about his head and he looked more than ever impassive and judicial, the man who had his guard up in the presence of the man who had no guard.

“You know about the case out in Nebraska, I presume?”

“I seem to have read something about it in the Crimson——”

“A Professor Lode in the department of economics there has been fired on the grounds that he campaigned for Wallace. Of course this is not what the official pronouncement is, but one gathers that the trustees have put pressure on the college and they’ve knuckled under.” Edward’s tone was, as always in such matters, harsh and belligerent. Goldberg observed this and it hurt him. The man had no business to be so passionate.

“Yes, yes—I do remember the facts,” he said warily.