|Title||The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists|
gusts of wind frequently striking the house and shaking it to its very foundations.
The natural kindliness of her character asserted itself; her better feelings were aroused, triumphing momentarily over the bigotry of her religious opinions.
`Why, you ain't got no overcoat!' she exclaimed. `You'll be soaked goin' 'ome in this rain.' Then, turning to her husband, she continued: `There's that old one of yours; you might lend him that; it would be better than nothing.'
But Owen would not hear of this: he thought, as he became very conscious of the clammy feel of his saturated clothing, that he could not get much wetter than he already was. Linden accompanied him as far as the front door, and Owen once more set out on his way homeward through the storm that howled around like a wild beast hungry for its prey.