| Title | The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists |
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| Page | 510 |
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| Chapter | -- |
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The Besotted Wretch gulped his beer down as quickly as he could, with his eyes fixed greedily on Philpot's glass. He had just finished his own and was about to suggest that it was a pity to waste the porter when Philpot unexpectedly reappeared. `Hullo! What 'ave you done with 'im?' inquired Crass. `I think 'e'll be all right,' replied Philpot. `He wouldn't let me go no further with 'im: said if I didn't go away, 'e'd go for me! But I believe 'e'll be all right. I think the fall sobered 'im a bit.' `Oh, 'e's all right,' said Crass offhandedly. `There's nothing the matter with 'im.' Philpot now drank his porter, and bidding `good night' to the Old Dear, the |
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