| Title | The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists |
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| Page | 77 |
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| Chapter | -- |
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| Text |
easy reach was the top of a cupboard where he had concealed a pint of beer in a bottle. To this he now applied himself. Having taken a long pull at the bottle, he tenderly replaced it on the top of the cupboard and proceeded to `hinjoy' a quiet smoke, remarking to himself: `This is where we get some of our own back.' He held, however, his trowel in one hand, ready for immediate action in case of interruption. Philpot [was about fifty-five years old. He] wore no white jacket, only an old patched apron; his trousers were old, very soiled with paint and ragged [at the bottoms of the legs] where they fell over the much-patched, broken and down-at-heel boots. The part of his waistcoat not protected by his apron was covered with spots of dried paint. He wore a coloured shirt and a |
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