LONDON
Chitterlows would be coming to London too. If they didn't get money they'd come after it; they weren't the sort of people to be choked off easily, and if they did they'd come to London to produce their play. He tried to imagine some seemly social occasion invaded by Chitterlow and his rhetoric, by his torrential thunder of self-assertion, the whole company flattened thereunder like wheat under a hurricane.
Confound and hang Chitterlow! Yet somehow, somewhen, one would have to settle accounts with him! And there was Sid! Sid was Ann's brother. He realised with sudden horror the social indiscretion of accepting Sid's invitation to dinner.
Sid wasn't the sort of chap one could snub or cut, and besides—Ann's brother! He didn't want to cut him. It would be worse than cutting Buggins and Pierce—a sight worse. And after that lunch!
It would be the next thing to cutting Ann herself. And even as to Ann!
Suppose he was with Helen or Coote!. . .
"Oh, Blow!" he said at last, and then, viciously, "Blow!" and so rose and flung away his cigarette end, and pursued his reluctant, dubitating way towards the really quite uncongenial splendours of the Royal Grand. . . .
And it is vulgarly imagined that to have money is to have no troubles at all!
§ 6
Kipps endured splendour at the Royal Grand Hotel for three nights and days, and then he retreated in
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