Ann looked up sharply and her hands stopped. "Who's gone?" For the first time she perceived Kipps' pallor.
"Young Walshingham—I saw 'er and she tole me."
"Gone? What d'you mean?"
"Cleared out! Gone off for good!"
"What for?"
"For 'is 'ealth," said Kipps, with sudden bitterness. "'E's been speckylating. He's speckylated our money and 'e's speckylated their money, and now 'e's took 'is 'ook. That's all about it, Ann."
"You mean?"
"I mean 'e's orf and our twenty-four thousand's orf, too! And 'ere we are! Smashed up! That's all about it, Ann." He panted.
Ann had no vocabulary for such an occasion. "Oh, Lor'!" she said, and sat still.
Kipps came about and stuck his hands deeply in his trouser pockets. "Speckylated every penny—lorst it all—and gorn."
Even his lips were white.
"You mean we ain't got nothin' left, Artie?"
"Not a penny! Not a bloomin' penny, Ann. No!"
A gust of passion whirled across the soul of Kipps. He flung out a knuckly fist. "If I 'ad 'im 'ere," he said, "I'd—I'd—I'd wring 'is neck for 'im. I'd—I'd" His voice rose to a shout. He thought of Gwendolen in the kitchen and fell to "Ugh!"
