ble for him. He had sought a minor issue. "I don't like all this Seciety," he had said.
"But you must see people," said Helen.
"Yes, but. It's the sort of people you see." He nerved himself. "I didn't think much of that lot at the Enegram Tea."
"You have to see all sorts of people if you want to see the world," said Helen.
Kipps was silent for a space and a little short of breath.
"My dear Arthur," she began, almost kindly, "I shouldn't ask you to go to these affairs if I didn't think it good for you, should I?"
Kipps acquiesced in silence.
"You will find the benefit of it all when we get to London. You learn to swim in a tank before you go out into the sea. These people here are good enough to learn upon. They're stiff and rather silly and dreadfully narrow and not an idea in a dozen of them, but it really doesn't matter at all. You'll soon get Savoir Faire."
He made to speak again, and found his powers of verbal expression lacking. Instead he blew a sigh.
"You'll get used to it all very soon," said Helen helpfully.…
As he sat meditating over that interview and over the vistas of London that opened before him, on the little flat, and teas and occasions and the constant presence of Brudderkins and all the bright prospect of his new and better life, and how he would never
