"I thought of it one day when I was in Folkestone. I thought of it one day when I was looking in at a window. I see a chap dressin' a window and he was whistlin' reg'lar light-'arted.… I thought then I'd like to keep a bookshop, any'ow, jest for something to do. And when people weren't about, then you could sit and read the books. See? It wouldn't be 'arf bad." …
They mused, each with elbows on table and knuckles to lips, looking with speculative eyes at each other.
"Very likely we'll be 'appier than we should 'ave been with more money," said Kipps presently.
"We wasn't 'ardly suited," reflected Ann, and left her sentence incomplete.
"Fish out of water like," said Kipps.…
"You won't 'ave to return that call now," said Kipps, opening a new branch of the question. "That's one good thing."
"Lor'!" said Ann, visibly brightening, "no more I shan't!"
"I don't s'pose they'd want you to, even if you did—with things as they are."
A certain added brightness came into Ann's face. "Nobody won't be able to come leaving cards on us, Artie, now, any more. We are out of that!"
"There isn't no necessity for us to be stuck up," said Kipps, "any more for ever! 'Ere we are, Ann, common people, with jest no position at all, as you might say, to keep up. No sev'nts, not if you don't
