When Bolton was away professionally (it appeared that of late
the porter of Shepherd's Inn had taken a serious turn, drank a good
deal, and otherwise made himself unpleasant to the ladies of his
family), they would like of all things to slip out and go to the
theater, little Barney their son, keeping the lodge; and Mr.
Pendennis's most generous and most genteel compliment of orders was
received with boundless gratitude by both mother and daughter.
Fanny clapped her hands with pleasure: her face beamed with it. She
looked, and nodded, and laughed at her mamma, who nodded and laughed
in her turn. Mrs. Bolton was not superannuated for pleasure yet, or by
any means too old for admiration, she thought. And very likely Mr.
Pendennis, in his conversation with her, had insinuated some
compliments, or shaped his talk so as to please her. At first against
Pen, and suspicious of him, she was his partisan now, and almost as
enthusiastic about him as her daughter. When two women get together to
like a man, they help each other on; each pushes the other forward,
and the second, out of sheer sympathy, becomes as eager as the
principal: at least, so it is said by philosophers who have examined
this science.
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