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CH. IX "I suppose I do. I suppose when one's 'appy one does."

"You do," said Ann.

"We shall be 'appy in that little 'ouse, Ann. Don't y' think?"

She met his eyes and nodded.

"I seem to see it," said Kipps, "sort of cosy like. 'Bout tea time and muffins, kettle on the 'ob, cat on the 'earthrug. We must get a cat, Ann, and you there. Eh?"

They regarded each other with appreciative eyes and Kipps became irrelevant.

"I don't believe, Ann," he said, "I 'aven't kissed you not for 'arf an hour. Leastways not since we was in those caves."

For kissing had already ceased to be a matter of thrilling adventure for them.

Ann shook her head. "You be sensible and go on talking about Mr. Masterman," she said.…

But Kipps had wandered to something else. "I like the way your 'air turns back just there," he said, with an indicative finger, "It was like that, I remember, when you was a girl. Sort of wavy. I've often thought of it … 'Member when we raced that time—out be'ind the church?"

Then for a time they sat idly, each following out agreeable meditations.

"It's rum," said Kipps.

"What's rum?"

"'Ow everything's 'appened," said Kipps. "Who'd