“Gammon!”
“What?”
“I said, gammon. You’re right enough. Forwarder than I am, and I’ve been here two years.”
“Oh no,” I said.
“Yes, you are. Don’t contradict; ’tisn’t gentlemanly. He said your English was weak?”
“How did you know?”
“Your Latin terribly deficient?”
“I say!” I cried, staring.
“Your writing execrable?”
“Mercer!”