He went to the play one night--for you see I'm down here readin' for my little go during the Long, only I come over from Baymouth pretty often in my drag--well, sir, we went to the play, and Pen was struck all of a heap with Miss Fotheringay--Costigan her real name is--an uncommon fine gal she is too; and the next morning I introduced him to the General, as we call her father--a regular old scamp and such a boy for the whisky-and-water!--and he's gone on being intimate there.

And he's fallen in love with her--and I'm blessed if he hasn't proposed to her," Foker said, slapping his hand on the table, until all the dessert began to jingle.
"What! you know it too ?" asked the Major.
"Know it! don't I?
and many more too.

We were talking about it at mess, yesterday, and chaffing Derby Oaks--until he was as mad as a hatter.
Know Sir Derby Oaks?
We dined together, and he went to the play: we were standing at the door smoking, I remember, when you passed in to dinner." "I remember Sir Thomas Oaks, his father, before he was a Baronet or a Knight; he lived in Cavendish-square, and was physician to Queen Charlotte." "The young one is making the money spin, I can tell you," Mr.Foker said.
"And is Sir Derby Oaks," the Major said, with great delight and anxiety, "another soupirant ?" "Another what ?" inquired Mr.Foker.
"Another admirer of Miss Fotheringay ?" "Lord bless you! we call him Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and Pen Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays.

But mind you, nothing wrong! No, no! Miss F.is a deal too wide-awake for that, Major Pendennis.

She plays one off against the other.