KIPPS
able to get along without him. He supplied a fine full bass, a little flat and quavery perhaps, but very abundant, to the St. Stylites' choir. . . .
He passes on towards the Public Library, lifts the envelope in salutation to a passing curate, smiles and enters. . . .
It was in the Public Library that he came upon Kipps.
By that time Kipps had been rich a week or more, and the change in his circumstances was visible upon his person. He was wearing a new suit of drab flannels, a Panama hat and a red tie for the first time, and he carried a silver-mounted stick with a tortoise-shell handle. He felt extraordinarily different, perhaps more different than he really was, from the meek Improver of a week ago. He felt as he felt dukes must feel, yet at bottom he was still modest. He was leaning on his stick and regarding the indicator with a respect that never palled. He faced round to meet Mr. Coote's overflowing smile.
"What are you doang hea?" said Mr. Chester Coote.
Kipps was momentarily abashed. "Oh," he said slowly, and then, "Mooching round a bit."
That Coote should address him with this easy familiarity was a fresh reminder of his enhanced social position. "Jes' mooching round," he said. "I been back in Folkestone free days now. At my 'ouse, you know."
"Ah!" said Mr. Coote. "I haven't yet had an opportunity of congratulating you on your good fortune."
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