“I intended to call upon you some day this week. I have heard you highly spoken of—'The great Fisher,' 'The famous Fisher.' Indeed, sir, I assure you, your name is a household word in Scotland.”
I choose Scotland because I know its accent is different from English. My own also is different. Therefore I shall be Scotch. Unhappy selection!
“Do you mean to pretend you are Scotch?” says Fisher, frowning as well as breathing at me.
I must withdraw one foot.
“Half Scotch, half Italian,” I reply.
Ah, France, why did I deny you? I was afraid to own you, I blush to confess it. And I was righteously punished.
“Italian?” says he, with more interest. “Ah, indeed!”
