Pendennis's glove, and dropping the curt, manly, and straightforward tone
in which he had conducted the conversation with the lad, assumed a
certain drawl which he always adopted when he was most conceited and
fine.
"My dear creature," said he, in that his politest tone, "I think it
certainly as well that I came down, and I flatter myself that last botte
was a successful one. I tell you how I came to think of it. Three years
ago my kind friend Lady Ferrybridge sent for me in the greatest state of
alarm about her son Gretna, whose affair you remember, and implored me to
use my influence with the young gentleman, who was engaged in an affaire
de coeur with a Scotch clergyman's daughter, Miss MacToddy. I implored, I
entreated gentle measures. But Lord Ferrybridge was furious, and tried
the high hand. Gretna was sulky and silent, and his parents thought they
had conquered. But what was the fact, my dear creature? The young people
had been married for three months before Lord Ferrybridge knew anything
about it. And that was why I extracted the promise from Master Pen.
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