for me to go to breakfast. My engagements won't permit me to see you much
during the time that you stay in London. I presume that you will acquaint
your mother with the news which you have just conveyed to me."

And pulling on his hat, and trembling in his limbs somewhat, Major
Pendennis walked out of his lodgings before his nephew, and went ruefully
off to take his accustomed corner at the Club. He saw the Oxbridge
examination-lists in the morning papers, and read over the names, not
understanding the business, with mournful accuracy. He consulted various
old fogies of his acquaintance, in the course of the day, at his Clubs;
Wenham, a Dean, various Civilians; and, as it is called, "took their
opinion," showing to some of them the amount of his nephew's debts, which
he had dotted down on the back of a card, and asking what was to be done,
and whether such debts were not monstrous, preposterous? What was to be
done?--There was nothing for it but to pay. Wenham and the others told
the Major of young men who owed twice as much--five times as much--as
Arthur, and with no means at all to pay. The consultations, and
calculations, and opinions, comforted the Major somewhat. After all, he
was not to pay.

But he thought bitterly of the many plans he had formed to make a man of
his nephew, of the sacrifices which he had made, and of the manner in
which he was disappointed. And he wrote off a letter to Doctor Portman,
informing him of the direful events which had taken place, and begging
the Doctor to break them to Helen. For the orthodox old gentleman
preserved the regular routine in all things, and was of opinion that it
was more correct to "break" a piece of bad news to a person by means of a
(possibly maladroit and unfeeling) messenger, than to convey it simply to
its destination by a note. So the Major wrote to Doctor Portman, and then
went out to dinner, one of the saddest men in any London dining-room that