KIPPS
together. I don't hold with service. We're common people, I suppose, but I don't like it. I don't see why a sister of mine should wait at other people's tables. No. Not even if they got Twelve 'Undred a Year."
Kipps tried to change the point of application. "Remember 'ow you came out once when we were racing here?. . . She didn't run bad for a girl."
And his own words raised an image brighter than he could have supposed, so bright it seemed to breathe before him, and did not fade altogether even when he was back in Folkestone an hour or so later.
But Sid was not to be deflected from that other rankling theme by any reminiscences of Ann.
"I wonder what you will do with all that money," he speculated. "I wonder if you will do any good at all. I wonder what you could do. You should hear Masterman. He'd tell you things. Suppose it came to me, what should I do? It's no good giving it back to the state as things are. Start an Owenite profit-sharing factory perhaps. Or a new Socialist paper. We want a new Socialist paper."
He tried to drown his personal chagrin in elaborate exemplary suggestions. . . .
§ 3
"I must be gettin' on to my motor," said Kipps at last, having to a large extent heard him out.
"What! Got a motor?"
"No!" said Kipps apologetically. "Only 'ired for the day."
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