He won't believe that my nephew is poor: he says we are both liars: he did me the honour to hint that I was a coward, as I took leave.

And I thought when you knocked at the door, that you might be the gentleman whom I expect with a challenge from Mr.Costigan--that is how the world treats me, Mr.Foker." "You don't mean that Irishman, the actress's father ?" cried Mr.Tatham, who was a dissenter himself, and did not patronise the drama.
"That Irishman, the actress's father--the very man.

Have not you heard what a fool my nephew has made of himself about the girl ?"--Mr.Tatham, who never entered the walls of a theatre, had heard nothing: and Major Pendennis had to recount the story of his nephew's loves to the lawyer, Mr.Foker coming in with appropriate comments in his usual familiar language.
Tatham was lost in wonder at the narrative.

Why had not Mrs.Pendennis married a serious man, he thought--Mr.Tatham was a widower--and kept this unfortunate boy from perdition?
As for Mr.Costigan's daughter, he would say nothing: her profession was sufficient to characterise her.
Mr.Foker here interposed to say he had known some uncommon good people in the booths, as he called the Temple of the Muses.

Well, it might be so, Mr.Tatham hoped so--but the father, Tatham knew personally--a man of the worst character, a wine-bibber and an idler in taverns and billiard-rooms, and a notorious insolvent.