"I feel greatly disappointed in you, Mr. Porter," Margaret Anglin said to Bill as we took our places at the table.
"In what have I failed?"
"You promised to bring your Western friend—that terrible Mr. Jennings—to criticize the play."
"Well, I have introduced him." He waved his hand down toward me.
Miss Anglin looked me over with the trace of a smile in her eye.
"Pardon me," she said, "but I can hardly associate you with the lovely things they say of you. Did you like the play?"
I told her I didn't. It was unreal. No man of the West would shake dice for a lady in distress. The situation was unheard of and could only occur in the imagination of a fat-headed Easterner who had never set his feet beyond the Hudson.
Miss Anglin laughed merrily. "New York is wild over it; New York doesn't know any better."
Porter sat back, an expansive smile spreading a light in his gray eyes.
"I am inclined to agree with our friend," he offered. "The West is unacquainted with Manhattan chivalry."