"It don't look like it," said Kipps, with the slightest emphasis.
"You got a moustache," said Ann, smelling her flowers and looking at him over them, not without admiration.
Kipps blushed.…
Presently they came to the bifurcation of the roads.
"I'm going down this way to mother's cottage," said Ann.
"I'll come a bit your way if I may."
In New Romney social distinctions that are primary realities in Folkestone are absolutely non-existent, and it seemed quite permissible for him to walk with Ann, for all that she was no more than a servant. They talked with remarkable ease to one another, they slipped into a vein of intimate reminiscence in the easiest manner. In a little while Kipps was amazed to find Ann and himself at this:
"You r'ember that half sixpence? What you cut for me?"
"Yes."
"I got it still."
She hesitated. "Funny, wasn't it?" she said, and then, "you got yours, Artie?"
"Rather," said Kipps. "What do you think?" and wondered in his heart of hearts why he had never looked at that sixpence for so long.
Ann smiled at him frankly.
"I didn't expect you'd keep it," she said. "I
