"A tarnation long word," thought Richard; but he prudently bowed, and held his tongue.
"Young men nowadays," continued Mrs. M'Catchley, resettling herself on the sofa, "affect to be so old. They don't dance, and they don't read, and they don't talk much; and a great many of them wear toupets before they are two-and-twenty!"
Richard mechanically passed his hand through his thick curls. But he was still mute; he was still ruefully chewing the cud of the epithet green. What occult horrid meaning did the word convey to ears polite? Why should he not say "green?"
"A very fine young man your nephew, sir," resumed Mrs. M'Catchley.
Richard grunted.
"And seems full of talent Not yet at the University? Will he go to Oxford or Cambridge!"
"I have not made up my mind yet, if I shall send him to the University at all."
"A young man of his expectations!" exclaimed Mrs. M'Catchley, artfully.
"Expectations!" repeated Richard, firing up. "Has the boy been talking to you of his expectations?"
"No, indeed, sir. But the nephew of the rich Mr. Avenel. Ah, one hears a great deal, you know, of rich people; it is the penalty of wealth, Mr. Avenel!"