| Title | The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists |
 |
|
| Page | 928 |
|
|
| Chapter | -- |
|
|
| Text |
answered at all just then, for at that moment they heard someone running up the stairs and presently the door was unceremoniously thrown open and Charley Linden rushed into the house, out of breath, hatless, and crying piteously. His clothes were old and ragged; they had been patched at the knees and elbows, but the patches were tearing away from the rotting fabric into which they had been sewn. He had on a pair of black stockings full of holes through which the skin was showing. The soles of his boots were worn through at one side right to the uppers, and as he walked the sides of his bare heels came into contact with the floor, the front part of the sole of one boot was separated from the upper, and his bare toes, red with cold and covered with mud, protruded through the gap. Some sharp substance - a nail or a piece of glass or flint - had evidently lacerated his right foot, for blood was oozing from the broken heel of his boot on to the floor. |
|
|
|
|
