“I don’t know—it looks uncivil. Here, which of these shall I cut?” he said, tossing three or four notes and cards to Julian.
“This for one,” said Julian, as he read the first:—
“Dear Kennedy—Come to supper and cards at ten. Bruce wants to be introduced to you. Yours,
“‘C Brogten.’”
“Yes, I think I shall. I don’t like that fellow Brogten, who is always thrusting himself in my way,” said Kennedy. “Heigh ho!” and Kennedy leant his head on his arm, and fell into a reverie, thinking that after all his three years at college might be over almost before he was aware of how much time he lost.
“I hope you don’t play cards much,” said Julian.
“Why? I hear Hazlet has been denouncing them in hall with unctuous fervour, and I do think it was that which led me to join in a game which was instantly proposed by some of the men who sat near.”
“I don’t say that there’s anything diabolical,” said Julian, smiling, “in paint and pasteboard, or that I should have the least objection to play them myself if I wanted amusement, but I think them—except very occasionally, and in moderation—a waste of time; and if you play for money I don’t think it does you any good.”
“Well, I’ve never played for money yet. By the bye, do you know Bruce? He has the character and manner of a very gentlemanly fellow.”
“Yes, I know him,” said Julian, who made a point of holding his tongue about a man when he had nothing favourable to say.
“Oh, ay, I forgot; of course; he’s a Hartonian. But didn’t you think him gentlemanly?”