Another "umph" expressed my uncle's dissatisfaction—displeasure would be too strong a word—and he continued eating.
"You have really some good Rhenish in your cellar, Hugh," resumed Uncle Ro, after tossing off one of the knowing green glasses full—though I never could understand why any man should wish to drink his wine out of green, when he might do it out of crystal. "It must have been a purchase of mine, made when we were last in Germany, and for the use of my mother."
"As you please, sir; it neither adds nor subtracts from the beauty of Martha and her friend."
"Since you are disposed to make these boyish allusions, be frank with me, and say, at once, how you like my wards."
"Meaning, of course, sir, my own sister exclusively. I will be as sincere as possible, and say that, as to Miss Marston, I have no opinion at all; and as to Miss Coldbrooke, she is what, in Europe, would be called a 'fine' woman."
"You can say nothing as to her mind, Hugh, for you have had no opportunity for forming an opinion."
"Not much of a one, I will own. Nevertheless, I should have liked her better had she spared the allusion to the 'proper person' who is one day to forge a chain for my sister, to begin with."
"Poh, poh! that is the mere squeamishness of a boy. I do not think her in the least pert or forward, and your construction would be tant soi peu vulgar."
"Put your own construction on it, mon oncle; I do not like it."
"I do not wonder young men remain unmarried; they are getting to be so ultra in their tastes and notions."