Julius named the place.
“One of the most expensive establishments in the city, and one frequented by dandies, roués, and bon vivants,—the very worst sort of society for a young man, who aspires to attaining eminence in one of the learned professions. You might, at least, have consulted me about a place proper for you, even though you had decided upon mortifying me by leaving my house. How long have you engaged to stay?”
“Only a week or two, uncle,” replied Julius, devoutly hoping that no questions would be asked, which would compel him to confess that he had ensconsed himself in the worst apartment in the house.
“I waited dinner for you an hour, after having expected you for two or three to go with me to visit your cousin Etty. However, you can stay to tea, and go with me in the evening.”
“Excuse me, dear sir,—I have a particular reason for declining.”
“What! again?—how do you intend to dispose of yourself?”
“I—I shall stay in my own room, I believe, uncle.”
“You vex and surprise me more and more, Julius. Independent of my earnest desire that you should see your cousin, your duty as a gentleman and as a relative requires that you should make her a visit, and the sooner it is done, the more it will be to your credit.”
“The young lady in question being only my second-cousin, I cannot perceive that there is any duty connected with the matter. Second-cousins, except in cases of convenience, are seldom regarded as relatives at all.”
“Whew! I presume that, after all that, I need not be surprised if you should propose to dissolve the connection between me and yourself! I, a queer, plain, old fellow, will hardly be likely to remain an acknowledged kinsman of one who declines the relationship of one of the loveliest girls that ever the sun shone upon!”