THE PUPIL LOVER
There was a silence between our lovers for a space.
"That," said Kipps with an allusive movement of the head, "was Chitt'low."
"Is he—a friend of yours?"
"In a way. . . . You see—I met im. Leastways 'e met me. Run into me with a bicycle, 'e did, and so we got talking together."
He tried to appear at his ease. The young lady scrutinised his profile.
"What is he?"
"'s a Nacter chap," said Kipps. "Leastways 'e writes plays."
"And sells them?"
"Partly."
"To whom?"
"Different people. Shares he sells. . . . It's all right, reely—I meant to tell you about him before."
Helen looked over her shoulder to catch a view of Chitterlow's retreating aspect. It did not compel her complete confidence.
She turned to her lover and said in a tone of quiet authority, "You must tell me all about Chitterlow. Now."
The explanation began. . . .
The School Play came almost as a relief to Kipps. In the flusterment of going in he could almost forget for a time his Laocoon struggle to explain, and in the intervals he did his best to keep forgetting. But Helen, with a gentle insistence, resumed the explanation of Chitterlow as they returned towards Folkestone.
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