Ann!
She called out all the least gentlemanly instincts of his nature. There had been a moment in their conversation when he had quite distinctly thought it would really be an extremely nice thing for someone to kiss her lips.... There was something warming about Ann—at least for Kipps. She impressed him as having somewhen during their vast interval of separation contrived to make herself in some distinctive way his.
Fancy keeping that half sixpence all this time!
It was the most flattering thing that had ever happened to Kipps.
§2
He found himself presently sitting over "The Art of Conversing," lost in the strangest musings. He got up, walked about, became stagnant at the window for a space, roused himself and by way of something lighter tried "Sesame and Lilies." From that, too, his attention wandered. He sat back. Anon he smiled, anon sighed. He arose, pulled his keys from his pocket, looked at them, decided and went upstairs. He opened the little yellow box that had been the nucleus of all his possessions in the world, and took out a small "Escritoire," the very humblest sort of present, and opened it—kneeling. And there, in the corner, was a little packet of paper, sealed as a last defence against any prying invader, with red sealing wax. It had gone untouched for years. He held this little packet between finger and thumb for a moment, regarding it, and then put down the escritoire and broke the seal....
As he was getting into bed that night he remembered something for the first time!
"Dash it!" he said. "Dashed if I told 'em this time.... Well! I shall 'ave to go over to New Romney again!"
He got into bed and remained sitting pensively on the pillow for a space.
"It's a rum world," he reflected after a vast interval.