"Drop more beer, Art?"
"Right you are, old man."
"Cut Mr. Kipps a bit more bread, Sid."
"Can't I pass you a bit?"
Sid was all right, Sid was, and there was no mistake about that.
It was growing up in his mind that Sid was the brother of Ann, but he said nothing about her for excellent reasons. After all, because he remembered Sid's irritation at her name when they had met in New Romney seemed to show a certain separation. They didn't tell each other much.... He didn't know how things might be between Ann and Sid, either.
Still, for all that, Sid was Ann's brother.
The furniture of the room did not assert itself very much above the cheerful business at the table, but Kipps was impressed with the idea that it was pretty. There was a dresser at the end with a number of gay plates and a mug or so, a Labour Day poster, by Walter Crane, on the wall, and through the glass and over the blind of the shop door one had a glimpse of the bright coloured advertisement cards of bicycle dealers, and a shelfful of boxes labelled, The Paragon Bell, The Scarum Bell, and The Patent Omi! Horn....
It seemed incredible that he had been in Folkestone that morning, and even now his Aunt and Uncle——!
Brrr. It didn't do to think of his Aunt and Uncle.