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not trying at everything. I saw you sit down to écarté last week at Trumpington's, and taking your turn with the bones after Ringwood's supper. They 'll beat you at it, Pen, my boy, even if they play on the square, which I don't say they don't, nor which I don't say they do, mind. But I won't play with 'em. You're no match for 'em. You ain't up to their weight. It's like little Black Strap standing up to Tom Spring, - the Black 's a pretty fighter, but, Law bless you, his arm ain't long enough to touch Tom, - and I tell you, you 're going it with fellers beyond your weight. Look here – If you 'll promise me never to bet nor touch a box nor a card, I'll let you off the two ponies."
But Pen, laughingly, said, “that though it was n't convenient to him to pay the two ponies at that moment, he by no means wished to be let off any just debts he owed;" and he and Foker parted, not without many dark forebodings on the latter's part with regard to his friend, who Harry thought was travelling speedily on the road to ruin.
“One must do at Rome as Rome does,” Pen said, in a dandified manner, jingling some sovereigns in his waistcoat pocket. “A little quiet play at écarté can't hurt a man who plays pretty well — I came away fourteen sovereigns richer from Ringwood's supper, and, gad! I wanted the money." — And he walked off, after having taken leave of poor Foker, who went away without any beat of drum, or offer to drive the coach out of Oxbridge, to superintend a little dinner which he was going to give at his own rooms in Boniface, about which dinners, the cook of the college, who had a great respect for Mr. Pendennis, always took especial pains for his young favorite.