KIPPS
His eyes sought in space for a time, and with a convulsive movement he recognised a distant acquaintance and raised his hat.
Pierce had also become a little pale. He addressed himself to Kipps in an undertone.
"Mr. Coote, isn't he?" he asked.
Coote addressed himself to Kipps directly and exclusively. His manner had the calm of extreme tension.
"I'm rather late," he said. "I think we ought almost to be going on now."
Kipps stood up. "That's all right," he said.
"Which way are you going?" said Pierce, standing also, and brushing some crumbs of cigarette ash from his sleeve.
For a moment Coote was breathless. "Thank you," he said, and gasped. Then he delivered the necessary blow; "I don't think we're in need of your society, you know," and turned away.
Kipps found himself falling over chairs and things in the wake of Coote, and then they were clear of the crowd.
For a space Coote said nothing; then he remarked abruptly and quite angrily for him, "I think that was awful Cheek!"
Kipps made no reply. . . .
The whole thing was an interesting little object lesson in distance, and it stuck in the front of Kipps' mind for a long time. He had particularly vivid the face of Pierce, with an expression between astonishment and anger. He felt as though he had struck Pierce in the face under circumstances that gave
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