There had been shouting to explain between ground and parapet, and then Helen and Kipps turned again to the view, and commended it and fell silent.
Helen sat fearlessly in an embrasure, and Kipps stood beside her.
"I've always been fond of scenery," Kipps repeated, after an interval.
Then he went off at a tangent. "D'you reely think that was right what Coote was saying?"
She looked interrogation.
"About my name?"
"Being really C-U-Y-P-S? I have my doubts. I thought at first. What makes Mr. Coote add an S to Cuyp?"
"I dunno," said Kipps, foiled. "I was jest thinking"
She shot one wary glance at him and then turned her eyes to the sea. Kipps was out for a space. He had intended to lead from this question to the general question of surnames and change of names; it had seemed a light and witty way of saying something he had in mind, and suddenly he perceived that this was an unutterably vulgar and silly project. The hitch about that "s" had saved him. He regarded her profile for a moment, framed in weather-beaten stone, and backed by the blue elements.
He dropped the question of his name out of existence and spoke again of the view. "When I see
