| Title | The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists |
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| Page | 516 |
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| Chapter | -- |
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| Text |
Perceiving that she did not speak or smile, Easton concluded that she was angry and became grave himself. `I've come at last, you see, my dear; better late than never.' He found it very difficult to speak plainly, for his lips trembled and refused to form the words. `I don't know so much about that,' said Ruth, inclined to cry and trying not to let him see the pity she could not help feeling for him. `A nice state you're in. You ought to be ashamed of yourself.' Easton shook his head and laughed foolishly. `Don't be angry, Ruth. It's no good, you know.' He walked clumsily towards her, still leaning on the table to steady himself. `Don't be angry,' he mumbled as he stooped |
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