ness. And even out of doors and alone, he found his mind distracted by irrelevant thoughts.
§2
His steps led him out of the High Street towards the church, and he leant for a time over the gate that had once been the winning post of his race with Ann Pornick, and presently found himself in a sitting position on the top rail. He had to get things smooth again, he knew; his mind was like a mirror of water after a breeze. The image of Helen and his great future was broken and mingled into fragmentary reflections of remoter things, of the good name of Old Methusaleh Three Stars, of long dormant memories the High Street saw fit, by some trick of light and atmosphere, to arouse that afternoon.…
Abruptly a fine, full voice from under his elbow shouted, "What—O Art!" and, behold, Sid Pornick was back in his world, leaning over the gate beside him, and holding out a friendly hand.
He was oddly changed and yet oddly like the Sid that Kipps had known. He had the old broad face and mouth, abundantly freckled, the same short nose, and the same blunt chin, the same odd suggestion of his sister Ann without a touch of her beauty; but he had quite a new voice, loud and a little hard, and his upper lip carried a stiff and very fair moustache.
Kipps shook hands. "I was jest thinking of you, Sid," he said, "jest this very moment and wondering
