Then he let himself go, with unmasked bitterness. "It's no sense at all. It's jest damn foolishness. Who's going to work and care in a muddle like this? Here first you do—something anyhow—of the world's work, and it pays you hardly anything, and then it invites you to do nothing, nothing whatever, and pays you twelve hundred pounds a year. Who's going to respect laws and customs when they come to damn silliness like that?" He repeated, "Twelve hundred pounds a year!"
At the sight of Kipps' face he relented slightly.
"It's not you I'm thinking of, o' man; it's the system. Better you than most people. Still"
He laid both hands on the gate and repeated to himself, "Twelve 'undred a year.… Gee-Whizz, Kipps! You'll be a swell!"
"I shan't," said Kipps with imperfect conviction. "No fear."
"You can't 'ave money like that and not swell out. You'll soon be too big to speak to—'ow do they put it?—a mere mechanic like me."
"No fear, Siddee," said Kipps with conviction. "I ain't that sort."
"Ah!" said Sid, with a sort of unwilling scepticism, "money'll be too much for you. Besides—you're caught by a swell already."
"'Ow d'you mean?"
"That girl you're going to marry. Masterman says"
"Oo's Masterman?"
