| Title | The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists |
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| Page | 371 |
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| Chapter | -- |
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| Text |
I'm sure I don't know wot's to become of 'im,' said Harlow with pretended concern, `because I don't believe 'e'd be allowed into 'ell, now.' `Why not?' demanded Bundy. `I should think it's just the bloody place for sich b--r's as 'im.' `So it used to be at one time o' day, but they've changed all that now. They've 'ad a revolution down there: deposed the Devil, elected a parson as President, and started puttin' the fire out.' `From what I hears of it,' continued Harlow when the laughter had ceased, `'ell is a bloody fine place to live in just now. There's underground railways and 'lectric trams, and at the corner of nearly every street there's a sort of pub where you can buy ice-cream, lemon squash, four ale, and American cold drinks; and you're allowed to sit in a refrigerator for two hours for a tanner.' |
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