You don't inherit your father's love of letters, then, Sir Derby?
He was a remarkably fine scholar, and I had the honour of knowing him very well." "Indeed," said the other, and gave a sulky wag of his head.
"He saved my life," continued Pendennis.
"Did he now ?" cried Miss Fotheringay, rolling her eyes first upon the Major with surprise, then towards Sir Derby with gratitude--but the latter was proof against those glances: and far from appearing to be pleased that the Apothecary, his father, should have saved Major Pendennis's life, the young man actually looked as if he wished the event had turned the other way.
"My father, I believe, was a very good doctor," the young gentleman said by way of reply.

"I'm not in that line myself.

I wish you good morning, sir.

I've got an appointment--Cos, bye-bye--Miss Fotheringay, good morning." And, in spite of the young lady's imploring looks and appealing smiles, the Dragoon bowed stiffly out of the room, and the clatter of his sabre was heard as he strode down the creaking stair; and the angry tones of his voice as he cursed little Tom Creed, who was disporting in the passage, and whose peg-top Sir Derby kicked away with an oath into the street.
The Major did not smile in the least, though he had every reason to be amused.

"Monstrous handsome young man that--as fine a looking soldier as ever I saw," he said to Costigan.
"A credit to the army and to human nature in general," answered Costigan.