All right, Ambrose replied, in doubt as to whether he should introduce Abel Morris.
Where are you going? Denis demanded.
Just West on a trip.
Denis appeared to be astonished. Well, you couldn't get me to leave New York with a success like you got. Why, the whole town's wild about you. I suppose, he went on more shrewdly, that's why you ducked. You never were much for fireworks. Do you remember that time old man Basket called you into his office to praise one of your stories? You went in as if you thought you were going to be fired and . . .
I remember, Ambrose interrupted, dropping his fork.
Well, anyhow, when you get through dinner meet me in the club car and we'll talk over old times, Denis suggested. He strolled on to the chair allotted to him.
Now Ambrose noted an entirely new expression in the eyes of Abel Morris, an expression of wondering approval.
I just knew it, the Westerner ejaculated.
Knew what?
Knew you was a professional man of some kind. So you're Ambrose Deacon?
