| Title | The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists |
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| Page | 333 |
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| Chapter | -- |
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| Text |
and when doing the skirting he had included part of the floor, sometimes an inch, sometimes half an inch. The paint was of a dark drab colour and the surface of the newly painted doors bore a strong resemblance to corduroy cloth, and from the bottom corners of nearly every panel there was trickling down a large tear, as if the doors were weeping for the degenerate condition of the decorative arts. But these tears caused to throb of pity in the bosom of Misery: neither did the corduroy-like surface of the work grate upon his feelings. He perceived them not. He saw only that there was a Lot of Work done and his soul was filled with rapture as he reflected that the man who had accomplished all this was paid only fivepence an hour. At the same time it would never do to let Sawkins know that he was satisfied with the progress made, so he said: `I don't want you to stand too much over this up 'ere, you know, Sawkins. Just mop it over anyhow, and get away from it as quick as you can.' `All right, sir,' replied Sawkins, wiping the sweat from his brow as Misery began crawling downstairs again. |
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