"We'll jest 'ave a sensible little 'ouse, and sensible things. No art or anything of that sort, nothing stuck-up or anything, but jest sensible. We'll be as right as anything, Ann."
"No socialism," said Ann, starting a lurking doubt.
"No socialism," said Kipps; "just sensible, that's all."
"I dessay it's all right for them that understand it, Artie, but I don't agree with this socialism."
"I don't neither, reely," said Kipps. "I can't argue about it, but it don't seem real like to me. All the same Masterman's a clever fellow, Ann."
"I didn't like 'im at first, Artie, but I do now—in a way. You don't understand 'im all at once."
"'E's so clever," said Kipps. "Arf the time I can't make out what 'e's up to. 'E's the cleverest chap I ever met. I never 'eard such talking. 'E ought to write a book.… It's a rum world, Ann, when a chap like that isn't 'ardly able to earn a living."
"It's 'is 'ealth," said Ann.
"I expect it is," said Kipps, and ceased to talk for a little while.
Then he spoke with deliberation, "Sea air might be the saving of 'im, Ann."
He glanced doubtfully at Ann, and she was looking at him even fondly.
"You think of other people a lot," said Ann. "I been looking at you sittin' there and thinking."
