Part 44 (2/2)

He glared at Kipps, his face flushed deep, his sunken eyes glowing with pa.s.sion, and then suddenly he changed altogether.

There was a sound of tea things rattling upon a tray outside the door, and Sid rose to open it.

”All of which amounts to this,” said Masterman, suddenly quiet and again talking against time. ”The world is out of joint, and there isn't a soul alive who isn't half waste or more. You'll find it the same with you in the end, wherever your luck may take you.... I suppose you won't mind my having another cigarette?”

He took Kipps' cigarette with a hand that trembled so violently it almost missed its object, and stood up, with something of guilt in his manner as Mrs. Sid came into the room.

Her eye met his and marked the flush upon his face.

”Been talking Socialism?” said Mrs. Sid, a little severely.

--5

Six o'clock that day found Kipps drifting eastward along the southward margin of Rotten Row. You figure him a small, respectably attired figure going slowly through a sometimes immensely difficult and always immense world. At times he becomes pensive and whistles softly. At times he looks about him. There are a few riders in the Row, a carriage flashes by every now and then along the roadway, and among the great rhododendrons and laurels and upon the greensward there are a few groups and isolated people dressed in the style Kipps adopted to call upon the Wals.h.i.+nghams when first he was engaged. Amid the complicated confusion of Kipps' mind was a regret that he had not worn his other things....

Presently he perceived that he would like to sit down; a green chair tempted him. He hesitated at it, took possession of it, and leant back and crossed one leg over the other.

He rubbed his under lip with his umbrella handle and reflected upon Masterman and his denunciation of the world.

”Bit orf 'is 'ead, poor chap,” said Kipps, and added: ”I wonder.”

He thought intently for a s.p.a.ce.

”I wonder what he meant by the lean years?”

The world seemed a very solid and prosperous concern just here, and well out of reach of Masterman's dying clutch. And yet----

It was curious he should have been reminded of Minton.

His mind turned to a far more important matter. Just at the end Sid had said to him, ”Seen Ann?” and as he was about to answer, ”You'll see a bit more of her now. She's got a place in Folkestone.”

It had brought him back from any concern about the world being out of joint or anything of that sort.

Ann!

One might run against her any day.

He tugged at his little moustache.

He would like to run against Ann very much....

”And it would be juiced awkward if I did!”

In Folkestone! It was a jolly sight too close....

Then, at the thought that he might run against Ann in his beautiful evening dress on the way to the band, he fluttered into a momentary dream, that jumped abruptly into a nightmare.

Suppose he met her when he was out with Helen! ”Oh, Lor'!” said Kipps.

Life had developed a new complication that would go on and go on. For some time he wished with the utmost fervour that he had not kissed Ann, that he had not gone to New Romney the second time. He marvelled at his amazing forgetfulness of Helen on that occasion. Helen took possession of his mind. He would have to write to Helen, an easy, off-hand letter, to say that he had come to London for a day or so. He tried to imagine her reading it. He would write just such another letter to the old people, and say he had had to come up on business. That might do for _them_ all right, but Helen was different. She would insist on explanations.

He wished he could never go back to Folkestone again. That would settle the whole affair.

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