He ate a crust of her making, he poured her out a glass of beer, he saw her drink a glass of punch--just one wine-glass full--out of the tumbler which she mixed for her papa.

She was perfectly good-natured, and offered to mix one for Pendennis too.

It was prodigiously strong; Pen had never in his life drunk so much spirits and water.

Was it the punch, or the punch-maker who intoxicated him?
During dinner, when the Captain, whom his daughter treated most respectfully, ceased prattling about himself and his adventures, Pen tried to engage the Fotheringay in conversation about poetry and about her profession.

He asked her what she thought of Ophelia's madness, and whether she was in love with Hamlet or not?
"In love with such a little ojous wretch as that stunted manager of a Bingley ?" She bristled with indignation at the thought.