THE WALSHINGHAMS
She's so very clever. And she throws herself into things so."
She untied her bonnet strings with a pleasant informality.
"She has told me all about her class. She used to be full of it. And about your cut hand."
"Lor'!" said Kipps; "fancy telling that!"
"Oh, yes! And how brave you were."
(Though, indeed, Helen's chief detail had been his remarkable expedient for checking bloodshed.)
Kipps became bright pink. "She said you didn't seem to feel it a bit."
Kipps felt he would have to spend weeks over "The Art of Conversing."
While he still hung fire Helen returned with the apparatus for afternoon tea upon a tray.
"Do you mind pulling out the table?" asked Mrs. Walshingham.
That, again, was very homelike. Kipps put down his hat and stick in the corner and, amidst an iron thunder, pulled out a little rusty, green-painted table, and then in the easiest manner followed Helen in to get chairs.
So soon as he had got rid of his teacup—he refused all food, of course, and they were merciful—he became wonderfully at his ease. Presently he was talking. He talked quite modestly and simply about his changed condition and his difficulties and plans. He spread what indeed had an air of being all his simple little soul before their eyes. In a while his clipped, defective accent had become less perceptible to their ears, and they began to realise, as the girl with the
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