character: with a good reputation in my quartier, and a moderate
establishment of two maids and a man--with an occasional brougham
to drive out Mrs. Pendennis, and a house near the Parks for the
accommodation of the children. Ha! what sayest thou? Answer thy friend,
thou worthy child of beer. Speak, I adjure thee by all thy vats.

"But you ain't got any money, Pen," said the other, still looking
alarmed.

"I ain't? No, but she ave. I tell thee there is gold in store for
me--not what you call money, nursed in the lap of luxury, and cradled
on grains, and drinking in wealth from a thousand mash-tubs. What do you
know about money? What is poverty to you, is splendour to the hardy son
of the humble apothecary. You can't live without an establishment,
and your houses in town and country. A snug little house somewhere off
Belgravia, a brougham for my wife, a decent cook, and a fair bottle of
wine for my friends at home sometimes; these simple necessaries suffice
for me, my Foker." And here Pendennis began to look more serious.
Without bantering further, Pen continued, "I've rather serious thoughts
of settling and marrying. No man can get on in the world without some
money at his back. You must have a certain stake to begin with, before
you can go in and play the great game. Who knows that I'm not going to
try, old fellow? Worse men than I have won at it. And as I have not got
enough capital from my fathers, I must get some by my wife--that's all."

They were walking down Grosvenor Street, as they talked, or rather as
Pen talked, in the selfish fulness of his heart; and Mr. Pen must have
been too much occupied with his own affairs to remark the concern
and agitation of his neighbour, for he continued: "We are no longer
children, you know, you and I, Harry. Bah! the time of our romance
has passed away. We don't marry for passion, but for prudence and for
establishment. What do you take your cousin for? Because she is a nice
girl, and an Earl's daughter, and the old folks wish it, and that sort
of thing."

"And you, Pendennis," asked Foker, "you ain't very fond of the
girl--you're going to marry?"

Pen shrugged his shoulders. "Comme ca," said he; "I like her well
enough. She's pretty enough; she's clever enough. I think she'll do very
well. And she has got money enough--that's the great point. Psha! you
know who she is, don't you? I thought you were sweet on her yourself one
night when we dined with her mamma. It's little