Percy often comes with us, but Julius rather resents a third person.

He thinks--so do I, much as I like Percy--that two are company and three are none.'" Major Atherton--for the soldier was no other--leaned back in his chair, and fanned himself with the letter.
"How _on earth_ am I to know who or what she is talking about?
If it's not the dog, upon my honour, Aunt Rimbolt-- It can't be the dog, though.
She calls him Julius; and why should she take the boy along with them if it wasn't the librarian puppy she walked with?
Rimbolt ought to look after things better than that! "`Uncle Rimbolt thinks very highly of his new _protege_.

He is so quiet; it is quite painful sometimes talking to him.

I'm sure he has had a lot of trouble; he has a sort of hunted look sometimes which is quite pathetic.

Aunt hardly ever lets him come into the drawing-room, and when she does it is generally in order to snub him.