anagram," and boldly pinned one of these brief documents to Kipps' lapel. The letters were "Cypshi," and Kipps from the very beginning suspected this was an anagram for Cuyps. She also left a thing like a long dance programme, from which dangled a little pencil in his hand. He found himself being introduced to people, and then he was in a corner with the short lady in a big bonnet, who was pelting him with gritty little bits of small talk that were gone before you could take hold of them and reply.
"Very hot," said this lady. "Very hot, indeed—hot all the summer—remarkable year—all the years remarkable now;—don't know what we're coming to—don't you think so, Mr. Kipps?"
"Oo rather," said Kipps, and wondered if Ann was still in the hall. Ann!
He ought not to have stared at her like a stuck fish and pretended not to know her. That couldn't be right. But what was right?
The lady in the big bonnet proceeded to a second discharge. "Hope you're fond of anagrams, Mr. Kipps—difficult exercise—still one must do something to bring people together—better than Ludo anyhow. Don't you think so, Mr. Kipps?"
Ann fluttered past the open door. Her eyes met his in amazed enquiry. Something had got dislocated in the world for both of them.…
He ought to have told her he was engaged. He ought to have explained things to her. Perhaps even now he might be able to drop her a hint.
