Kipps, page 69 by H.G. Wells

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70

and the indisputable paraffin lamp a soft and splendid light. A certain youthful heat that to many minds might have weakened old Methuselah's starry claim to a ripe antiquity vanished in that glamour; two burnt holes and a clamant darn in the table-cloth, moreover, became no more than the pleasing contradictions natural in the house of genius; and as for Kipps--Kipps was a bright young man of promise, distinguished by recent quick, courageous proceedings not too definitely insisted upon, and he had been rewarded by admission to a sanctum and confidences for which the common prosperous, for which 'society women' even, were notoriously sighing in vain. 'Don't want them, my boy; they'd simply play old Harry with the Work, you know! Chaps outside, bank clerks and university fellows, think the life's all that sort of thing. Don't you believe 'em! Don't you believe 'em!'

And then--!

'Boom... Boom... Boom... Boom...' right in the middle of a most entertaining digression on flats who join touring companies under the impression that they are actors, Kipps much amused at their flatness as exposed by Chitterlow.

'Lor!' said Kipps, like one who awakens, 'that's not eleven!'

'Must be,' said Chitterlow. 'It was nearly ten when I got that whisky. It's early yet--'

'All the same, I must be going,' said Kipps, and stood up. 'Even now--maybe. Fact is--I 'ad no idea. The 'ouse door shuts at 'arf-past ten, you know. I ought to 'ave thought before.'

'Well, if you must go--! I tell you what. I'll come to...Why! There's your leg, old man! Clean forgot it! You can't go through the streets like that. I'll sew up the tear. And meanwhile have another whiskey.'

'I ought to be getting on now,' protested Kipps, feebly; and then Chitterlow was showing him how to kneel on a chair in order that the rent trouser leg should be attainable, and old Methuselah on his third round was busy repairing the temporary eclipse of Kipps' arterial glow. Then suddenly Chitterlow was seized with laughter, and had

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