| Title | The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists |
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| Page | 365 |
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| Chapter | -- |
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| Text |
different then!' `That's just wot gets over ME,' observed Harlow. `It don't seem right that after living in misery and poverty all our bloody lives, workin' and slavin' all the hours that Gord A'mighty sends, that we're to be bloody well set fire and burned in 'ell for all eternity! It don't seem feasible to me, you know.' `It's my belief,' said Philpot, profoundly, `that when you're dead, you're done for. That's the end of you.' `That's what *I* say,' remarked Easton. `As for all this religious business, it's just a money-making dodge. It's the parson's trade, just the same as painting is ours, only there's no work attached to it and the pay's a bloody sight better than ours is.' `It's their livin', and a bloody good livin |
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