Ann, after a momentary reconnaisance at Chitterlow's hieroglyphics, came to join him.
"Wonder what I shall do this afternoon," said Kipps, with his hands deep in his pockets.
He produced and lit a cigarette.
"Go for a walk, I s'pose," said Ann.
"I been for a walk this morning.
"S'pose I must go for another," he added, after an interval.
They regarded the windy waste of sea for a space.
"Wonder why it is 'e won't see me," said Kipps, returning to the problem of young Walshingham. "It's all lies about 'is being too busy."
Ann offered no solution.
"Rain again!" said Kipps, as the lash of the little drops stung the window.
"Oo, bother!" said Kipps, "you got to do something. Look 'ere, Ann! I'll go orf for a reg'lar tramp through the rain, up by Saltwood, 'round by Newington, over the camp, and so 'round and back, and see 'ow they're getting on about the 'ouse. See? And look 'ere! you get Gwendolen to go out a bit before I come back. If it's still rainy, she can easy go 'round and see 'er sister. Then we'll 'ave a bit of tea, with tea cake—all buttery, see? Toce it ourselves, p'raps. Eh?"
"I dessay I can find something to do in the 'ouse," said Ann, considering. "You'll take your mackintosh and leggin's, I s'pose. You'll get wet without your mackintosh over those roads."
