"So I observe,"—gravely.
"The pleasure is mine. To begin with, permit me to introduce you to my guests." One by one he named them, the ladies and gentlemen. I had heard of them all. Money had made them famous. "As for myself, I am Daniel Ainsworth; this is my home. I dare say you have heard of me."
"I have won money on your horses, sir,"—with all the gravity of expression I found possible to assume.
My remark was greeted with laughter.
My host, composing his lips, resumed. "And now, sir, whom have I the honor to address?"
"I am the author of many a famous poem,"—tranquilly.
"Ah!"
"Yes; anonymous. Sir, my name would mean nothing to you or your guests: I am poor."
There was a trace of admiration in the girl's eyes as she turned her head. "Besides," I went on, "I want a little revenge."