He smiled a smile that glimmered in the twilight.
"It's too much," said Kipps, overcome. "It's so all like that."
Coote exhaled. For a time Kipps listened to Helen's praises and matured a point of view.
"I say, Coote," he said. "What ought I to do now?"
"What do you mean?" said Coote.
"I mean about calling on 'er and all that."
He reflected. "Naturally, I want to do it all right."
"Of course," said Coote.
"It would be awful to go and do something—now—all wrong."
Coote's cigarette glowed as he meditated. "You must call, of course," he decided. "You'll have to speak to Mrs, Walshingham."
"'Ow?" said Kipps.
"Tell her you mean to marry her daughter."
"I dessay she knows," said Kipps, with defensive penetration.
Coote's head was visible, shaking itself judiciously.
"Then there's the ring," said Kipps. "What 'ave I to do about that?"
"What ring do you mean?"
"'Ngagement Ring. There isn't anything at all about that in 'Manners and Rules of Good Society'—not a word."
"Of course you must get something—tasteful. Yes."
