inarticulate self-pity, as if he sought a handle, and then he had it open.
Clearly he was going.
"Artie!" said Ann, sharply.
He turned about and the two hung, white and tense.
"I'll do it," said Ann.
His face began to work, he shut the door and came a step back to her, staring; his face became pitiful and then suddenly they moved together. "Artie!" she cried, "don't go!" and held out her arms, weeping.
They clung close to one another.…
"Oh! I been so mis'bel," cried Kipps, clinging to this lifebuoy, and suddenly his emotion, having no further serious work in hand, burst its way to a loud boohoo! His fashionable and expensive gibus flopped off and fell and rolled and lay neglected on the floor.
"I been so mis'bel," said Kipps, giving himself vent. "Oh! I been so mis'bel, Ann."
"Be quiet," said Ann, holding his poor, blubbering head tightly to her heaving shoulder, and herself all a-quiver; "be quiet. She's there! Listenin'. She'll 'ear you, Artie, on the stairs.…"
§6
Ann's last words when, an hour later, they parted, Mrs. and Miss Bindon Botting having returned very audibly upstairs, deserve a section to themselves.
"I wouldn't do this for everyone, mind you," whispered Ann.
