Ashton's good nature was unassailable.
"Sorry," he declared, "never heard of him."
Ford became garrulous, he could not believe two men could look so much
alike. It was a remarkable coincidence. The stranger must certainly have
a drink, the drink intended for his twin. Ashton was bored, but
accepted. He was well acquainted with the easy good-fellowship of his
countrymen. The room in which he sat was a meeting-place for them. He
considered that they were always giving each other drinks, and not only
were they always introducing themselves, but saying, "Shake hands with
my friend, Mr. So-and-So." After five minutes they showed each other
photographs of the children. This one, though as loquacious as the
others, seemed better dressed, more "wise"; he brought to the exile the
atmosphere of his beloved Broadway, so Ashton drank to him pleasantly.
"My name is Sydney Carter," he volunteered.
As a poker-player skims over the cards in his hand, Ford, in his mind's
eye, ran over the value of giving or not giving his right name. He
decided that Ashton would not have heard it and that, if he gave a false
one, there was a chance that later Ashton might find out that he had
done so.
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