the back seat of the carriage after a feeble bow or two, and
speech of thanks, polite to the last, and resolute in doing his duty.
The Begum waved her dumpy little hand by way of farewell to Arthur and
Foker, and Blanche smiled languidly out upon the young men, thinking
whether she looked very wan and green under her rose-coloured hood, and
whether it was the mirrors at Gaunt House, or the fatigue and fever of
her own eyes, which made her fancy herself so pale.

Arthur, perhaps, saw quite well how yellow Blanche looked, but did
not attribute that peculiarity of her complexion to the effect of the
looking-glasses, or to any error in his sight or her own. Our young man
of the world could use his eyes very keenly, and could see Blanche's
face pretty much as nature had made it. But for poor Foker it had a
radiance which dazzled and blinded him: he could see no more faults in
it than in the sun, which was now flaring over the house-tops.

Amongst other wicked London habits which Pen had acquired, the moralist
will remark that he had got to keep very bad hours; and often was going
to bed at the time when sober country-people were thinking of leaving
it. Men get used to one hour as to another. Editors of newspapers,
Covent Garden market-people, night cabmen and coffee-sellers,
chimney-sweeps, and gentlemen and ladies of fashion who frequent balls,
are often quite lively at three or four o'clock of a morning, when
ordinary mortals are snoring. We have shown in the last chapter how Pen
was in a brisk condition of mind at this period, inclined to smoke his
cigar at ease, and to speak freely.

Foker and Pen walked away from Gaunt House, then, indulging in both the
above amusements: or rather Pen talked, and Foker looked as if he wanted
to say something. Pen was sarcastic and dandified when he had been in
the company of great folks; he could not help imitating some of their
airs and tones, and having a most lively imagination, mistook himself
for a person of importance very easily. He rattled away, and attacked
this person and that; sneered at Lady John Turnbull's bad French, which
her ladyship will introduce into all conversations in spite of the
sneers of everybody; at Mrs. Slack Roper's extraordinary costume and
sham jewels; at the old dandies and the young ones;--at whom didn't he
sneer and laugh?

"You fire at everybody, Pen--you're grown awful, that you are," Foker
said. "Now you've pulled about Blondel's yellow wig, and