great mind about a woman. But Foker, though early wise, was still a man.
He could no more escape the common lot than Achilles, or Ajax, or Lord
Nelson, or Adam our first father, and now, his time being come, young
Harry became a victim to Love, the All-conqueror.

When he went to the Back Kitchen that night after quitting Arthur
Pendennis at his staircase-door in Lamb Court, the gin-twist and
devilled turkey had no charms for him, the jokes of his companions
fell flatly on his ear; and when Mr. Hodgen, the singer of 'The Body
Snatcher,' had a new chant even more dreadful and humorous than that
famous composition, Foker, although he appeared his friend, and said
"Bravo, Hodgen," as common politeness and his position as one of the
chiefs of the Back Kitchen bound him to do, yet never distinctly
heard one word of the song, which under its title of 'The Cat in the
Cupboard,' Hodgen has since rendered so famous. Late and very tired, he
slipped into his private apartments at home and sought the downy pillow,
but his slumbers were disturbed by the fever of his soul, and the very
instant that he woke from his agitated sleep, the image of Miss Amory
presented itself to him, and said, "Here I am, I am your princess
and beauty, you have discovered me, and shall care for nothing else
hereafter."

Heavens, how stale and distasteful his former pursuits and friendships
appeared to him! He had not been, up to the present time, much
accustomed to the society of females of his own rank in life. When he
spoke of such, he called them "modest women." That virtue which, let us
hope, they possessed, had not hitherto compensated to Mr. Foker for the
absence of more lively qualities which most of his own relatives did not
enjoy, and which he found in Mesdemoiselles, the ladies of the theatre.
His mother, though good and tender, did not amuse her boy; his
cousins, the daughters of his maternal uncle, the respectable Earl of
Rosherville, wearied him beyond measure. One was blue, and a geologist;
one was a horsewoman, and smoked cigars; one was exceedingly Low Church,
and had the most heterodox views on religious matters; at least, so the
other said, who was herself of the very Highest Church faction, and made
the cupboard in her room into an oratory, and fasted on every Friday in
the year. Their paternal house of Drummington, Foker could very seldom
be got to visit. He swore he had rather go on the treadmill than stay
there. He was not much be