But he was rather simple: his
examination of moral questions had never been very deep; it had never
struck him perhaps, until very lately, that he was otherwise than a
most respectable and rather fortunate man. Is there no old age but his
without reverence? Did youthful folly never jeer at other bald pates?
For the past two or three years, he had begun to perceive that his day
was well nigh over, and that the men of the new time had begun
to reign.
After a rather unsuccessful autumn season, then, during which he was
faithfully followed by Mr. Morgan, his nephew Arthur being engaged, as
we have seen, at Clavering, it happened that Major Pendennis came back
for awhile to London, at the dismal end of October, when the fogs and
the lawyers come to town. Who has not looked with interest at those
loaded cabs, piled boxes, and crowded children, rattling through the
streets on the dun October evenings; stopping at the dark houses,
where they discharge nurse and infant, girls, matron, and father,
whose holidays are over? Yesterday it was France and sunshine, or
Broadstairs and liberty; to-day comes work and a yellow fog; and, ye
gods! what a heap of bills there lies in master's study.
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