|Title||The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists|
opened from the inside by Hunter, and Owen went in.
Rushton was seated in an armchair at his desk, smoking a cigar and reading one of several letters that were lying before him. At the back was a large unframed photograph of the size known as half-plate of the interior of some building. At another desk, or rather table, at the other side of the office, a young woman was sitting writing in a large ledger. There was a typewriting machine on the table at her side.
Rushton glanced up carelessly as Owen came in, but took no further notice of him.
`Just wait a minute,' Hunter said to Owen, and then, after conversing in a low tone with Rushton for a few minutes, the foreman put on his hat and went out of the office through the partition door which led into the front shop.
Owen stood waiting for Rushton to