| Title | The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists |
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| Page | 706 |
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| Chapter | -- |
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Slyme suffered less from the cold than any of them, not only because he had secured the most sheltered window, but also because he was better clothed than most of the rest. `What's Crass supposed to be doin' inside?' asked Easton as he tramped up and down, with his shoulders hunched up and his hands thrust deep into the pockets of his trousers. `Blowed if I know,' replied Philpot. `Messin' about touchin' up or makin' colour. He never does 'is share of a job like this; 'e knows 'ow to work things all right for 'isself.' `What if 'e does? We'd be the same if we was in 'is place, and so would anybody else,' said Slyme, and added sarcastically: `Or p'haps you'd give all the soft jobs to other people and do all the rough yerself!' Slyme knew that, although they were speaking of Crass, they were also alluding to himself, and as he replied to Philpot he looked slyly at Owen, who had so far taken no part in the conversation. |
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