The others shouted with laughter.
"O yes! Everything old and New England goes. You are too provincial, old boy. You want to broaden out. I've seen a lot of fellows like you come here, snapping and snarling at Chicago, and end up by being wild promoters." The Jew was at the bat, and the table applauded every hit.
Rose did not share in the talk—she had so little knowledge of cities—but it served to make Mr. Taylor a strong figure in her eyes. He was tall and big-boned and unsmiling. He studied her with absent-minded interest, and she felt no irritation or embarrassment, for his eyes were clean and thoughtful. He looked at her as if she called up memories of some one he had loved in another world, and she somehow grew a little sad under his gaze.
As they sat in her room after dinner, Mary asked:
"How do you like our crowd?"
"I can't tell yet. I don't like that Boston man. I never could bear the sound of 'ah'."
"He's a chump; but they ain't all like that. I have met two or three decent Boston fellows down in the office. Don't think they are all muffs."
"Of course not."
"Now take my 'boss' for example. He's fine. He's big enough so you don't mind his airs, but what do you think of Mr. Taylor?"
Rose looked thoughtful, and Mary hastened to say.