trifle too strongly. "But I think it's coming off. However. I mustn't detain you now. So long. You'll come 'round, eh?"
"Right you are," said Kipps.
"To-night?"
"At eight."
And then, and more in the manner of a Russian prince than any common count, Chitterlow bowed and withdrew. Just for a moment he allowed a conquering eye to challenge Helen's and noted her for a girl of quality.…
There was a silence between our lovers for a space.
"That," said Kipps with an allusive movement of the head, "was Chitterlow."
"Is he—a friend of yours?"
"In a way.… You see—I met 'im. Leastways 'e met me. Run into me with a bicycle, 'e did, and so we got talking together."
He tried to appear at his ease. The young lady scrutinised his profile.
"What is he?"
"'E's a Nacter chap," said Kipps. "Leastways 'e writes plays."
"And sells them?"
"Partly."
"Whom to?"
"Different people. Shares he sells.… It's all right, reely—I meant to tell you about him before."
Helen looked over her shoulder to catch a view of
