"You see, sir," Warrington said, "Mrs. Flanagan isn't here to do 'em, and we can't employ the boy, for the little beggar is all day occupied cleaning Pen's boots. And now for another swig at the beer. Pen drinks tea; it's only fit for old women."
"And so you were at Lady Whiston's last night," the major said, not in truth knowing what observation to make to this rough diamond.
"I at Lady Whiston's! not such a flat, sir. I don't care for female society. In fact it bores me. I spent my evening philosophically at the Back Kitchen."
"The Back Kitchen? indeed!" said the major.
"I see you don't know what it means," Warrington said. "Ask Pen. He was there after Lady Whiston's. Tell Major Pendennis about the Back Kitchen, Pen—don't be ashamed of yourself."
So Pen said it was a little eccentric society of men of letters and men about town, to which he had been presented; and the major began to think that the young fellow had seen a good deal of the world since his arrival in London.