高自杰 选注

　　Alan Brown liked the novels of a writer whose name was Fraser Lambourn very much, and as Alan's wife Violet was the manager of a big bookshop, she always brought Alan back the latest work by his favourite writer.<注1>

　　Then one day Violet said to her husband, "Guess what, Alan! Fraser Lambourn's coming to our bookshop next week to sign copies of his new book for people who buy it!<注2> Isn't that good news?"

　　"Yes, it's wonderful!" said Alan happily. Then he stopped and thought for a few seconds. "But you've already brought me a copy of his new book!" he said disappointedly. "I don't suppose he'll sign that, will he?"

　　"Oh, yes, he will," said Violet cheerfully.<注3> "You just wait and see." She told Alan that her bookshop was giving Fraser Lambourn a party at the Grand Hotel before he started signing, and that he would owe her something for that.<注4> "You've been invited as my husband, by the way," Violet added, "so you can have a word with him there."<注5> Alan became happy again, and he eagerly looked forward to the Saturday on which he would meet Fraser Lambourn.

　　The day came at last, and at the time Violet had told him, Alan was at the door of the hotel roomswheresthe party was going to be, looking inside to see if he could recognise his favourite writer, whose photograph he had had for a long time. He had a small black beard.

　　"Yes, there he is!" he said to himself excitedly. "And he'sshavingsa conversation with Violet! Hurrah! What luck!" He went in, and said, "Hullo, dear" to his wife. She introduced him to the great man.

　　"Mr Lambourn...," Violet began.

　　"Oh, do please call me Fraser,"<注6> the writer interrupted with a smile.

　　"Thank you, Fraser," Violet said. Then she turned to Alan and said, "Fraser was telling me about his early days as a writer. It was most interesting. Could you repeat what you were saying for Alan, Fraser?"

　　"Certainly," Fraser answered. "I was telling your charming wife that my real name was Larry Lamb, but that my agent had advised me to change it if I wanted to find a publisher. How right he was!"

　　"And you were telling me something else too, Fraser," said Violet with a smile.

　　"Oh, yes," the writer continued, "I was telling Violet that it wasn't till I'd been writing for twelve years that I discovered I had no talent at all as a writer."<注7>

　　Alan was very surprised and asked Fraser why he hadn't given up writing then.

　　"I couldn't," declared Fraser. "By that time I was too famous to stop."<注8>