For a long time he and Jim had lunched together habitually.

Roscoe preferred a club luncheon, but Jim and his father almost always went to a small restaurant near the Sheridan Building, where they spent twenty minutes in the consumption of food, and twenty in talk, with cigars.

Jim came for his father every day, at five minutes after twelve, and Sheridan was again in his office at five minutes before one.

But now that Jim no longer came, Sheridan remained alone in his office; he had not gone out to lunch since Jim's death, nor did he have anything sent to him--he fasted until evening.
It was the time he missed Jim personally the most--the voice and eyes and handshake, all brisk and alert, all business-like.

But these things were not the keenest in Sheridan's grief; his sense of loss went far deeper.