144 AN ANGLER AT LARGE 



of the rod had moulded my right hand into some 

 characteristic shape, as typewriting is said to 

 affect the finger-tips. I asked of my expression if 

 it differed in some subtle manner from the 

 expressions of men who did not fish who shot, 

 for instance, or collected butterflies. Was it more 

 gentle, or, perhaps, more brutal than theirs ? I 

 could find nothing in my hands or my expression 

 that shouted the angler, nor in anything else. 

 There was certainly nothing more clearly pisca- 

 torial about my dress-suit than about the dress- 

 suits of other men. Yet within ten minutes of 

 my sitting down to dinner, my partner would say, 

 " 1 think you fish." After several years, I had 

 rejected all but one of the explanations which had 

 occurred to me. This one follows. In each case 

 before I was presented, my hostess must have 

 addressed the destined woman in some such words 

 as these : " My dear, you have a terrible trial 

 coming to you. But he fishes. Forgive me this 

 once ; it shall never happen again. Remember, he 

 fishes." Simultaneously with this discovery, I 

 abandoned the dining-out habit. 



There was, I remember, another thing they 

 always said. They said it immediately after I had 

 replied " Yes " to their observation. It was this : 

 " I always think a fisherman must require so much 

 patience." Then they would continue with : " I'm 



