“You speak as if you were America,” he said.
“I am,” I replied.
“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.”