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" But Mr. Pendennis wanted to see him, and
begged him, with a smile, to enter: whereupon Mr. Foker took off the
embroidered tarboosh or fez (it had been worked by the fondest of
mothers) and advanced, bowing to the gentlemen and smiling on them
graciously. Mr. Tatham had never seen so splendid an apparition before as
this brocaded youth, who seated himself in an arm-chair, spreading out
his crimson skirts, and looking with exceeding kindness and frankness on
the other two tenants of the room. "You seem to like my dressing-gown,
sir," he said to Mr. Tatham. "A pretty thing, isn't it? Neat, but not in
the least gaudy. And how do you do, Major Pendennis, sir, and how does
the world treat you?"
There was that in Foker's manner and appearance which would have put an
Inquisitor into good humour, and it smoothed the wrinkles under
Pendennis's head of hair.
"I have had an interview with that Irishman (you may speak before my
friend, Mr. Tatham here, who knows all the affairs of the family), and it
has not, I own, been very satisfactory.


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