| Title | The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists |
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| Page | 1447 |
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| Chapter | -- |
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| Text |
passed by pushing another cart - or rather, holding it back, for he was coming slowly down the hill. Another Heir of all the ages - another Imperialist - a degraded, brutalized wretch, clad in filthy, stinking rags, his toes protruding from the rotten broken boots that were tied with bits of string upon his stockingless feet. The ramshackle cart was loaded with empty bottles and putrid rags, heaped loosely in the cart and packed into a large sack. Old coats and trousers, dresses, petticoats, and under-clothing, greasy, mildewed and malodorous. As he crept along with his eyes on the ground, the man gave utterance at intervals to uncouth, inarticulate sounds. `That's another way of gettin' a livin',' said Sawkins with a laugh as the miserable creature slunk past. Harlow also laughed, and Barrington regarded them curiously. He thought it strange that they did not seem to realize that they might some day become like this man themselves. |
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