KIPPS ENTERS SOCIETY
"Mysterious grief! Everything merry as a marriage bell until my Anagram Tea! Then in the evening a portentous rigour of bearing, a word or so from my Aunt, and immediately—Floods of Tears and Notice!" For a moment her eye rested thoughtfully on Kipps, as she said: "Is there anything heartrending about Anagrams?"
"I find them so," said Revel. "I———"
But Mrs. Bindon Botting got away again. "For a time it made me quite uneasy———"
Kipps jabbed his lip with his fork rather painfully, and was recalled from a fascinated glare at Mrs. Botting to the immediate facts of dinner.
"—whether anagrams might not have offended the good domestic's Moral Code—you never can tell. We made inquiries. No. No. No. She must go and that's all!"
"One perceives," said Revel, "in these disorders, dimly and distantly, the last dying glow of the age of Romance. Let us suppose, Mrs. Botting, let us at least try to suppose—it is Love."
Kipps clattered with his knife and fork.
"It's love," said Mrs. Botting; "what else can it be? Beneath the orderly humdrum of our lives these romances are going on, until at last they bust up and give Notice and upset our humdrum altogether. Some fatal, wonderful soldier———"
"The passions of the common or house domestic," said Revel, and recovered possession of the table.
Upon the troubled disorder of Kipps' table manners there had supervened a quietness, an unusual calm. For once in his life he had distinctly made up
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