You see I am a trifle more communicative today, because this is our last
interview upon the subject.'

'Our last interview!' cried Morris.

'The stirrup-cup, dear boy,' returned Michael. 'I can't have my business
hours encroached upon. And, by the by, have you no business of your own?
Are there no convulsions in the leather trade?'

'I believe it to be malice,' repeated Morris doggedly. 'You always hated
and despised me from a boy.'

'No, no--not hated,' returned Michael soothingly. 'I rather like you
than otherwise; there's such a permanent surprise about you, you look so
dark and attractive from a distance. Do you know that to the naked
eye you look romantic?--like what they call a man with a history? And
indeed, from all that I can hear, the history of the leather trade is
full of incident.'

'Yes,' said Morris, disregarding these remarks, 'it's no use coming
here. I shall see your father.'

'O no, you won't,' said Michael. 'Nobody shall see my father.'

'I should like to know why,' cried his cousin.

'I never make any secret of that,' replied the lawyer. 'He is too ill.'

'If he is as ill as you say,' cried the other, 'the more reason for
accepting my proposal. I will see him.'