"Now that is just it. You Americans come over here nationally. We
English travel individually."
I was so startled at this acute analysis from a man whom I had always
regarded as an Englishman that I forgot my manners and I said, "Good
heavens, you are not all English, are you?"
"My father was Irish," he said.
"I knew it!" I cried with joy. "Please shake hands with me again. I
knew you weren't entirely English after that speech!"
He laughed.
"I will shake hands with you, of course. But I am a typical Britisher.
Please believe that."
"I shall not. You are not typical. That was really a clever
distinction and quite true."
He looked as if he were going to argue the point with me, so I hurried
on. I always get the worst of an argument, so I tried to take his mind
off his injury. "Now please go on," I urged. "It sounded so
interesting."
"Well, I was only going to say that in America you are, as hosts,
quite sincere in wishing us to enjoy ourselves and to like America.
Here we will only do our duty by you if you bring letters to us, and
we don't care a hang whether you like England or not.
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