The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists
The baby still lay asleep in the cradle, but his slumbers had evidently not been of the most restful kind, for he had kicked the bed clothes off him and was lying all uncovered.
Ruth obeyed passively when Slyme told her to sit down, and lying back languidly in the armchair she watched him, through half-closed eyes and with a slight flush on her face, as he deftly covered the sleeping child with the bed clothes and settled him more comfortably in the cot.
Slyme now turned his attention to the fire and as he placed the kettle upon it, he remarked: 'As soon as the water boils I'll make you some strong tea.'
During their walk home she had acquainted Slyme with the cause of the misfortune which had befallen her, and as she reclined in the armchair, drowsily watching him, she wondered what would have happened to her if he had not passed by when he did.
'Are you feeling better?' he asked, looking down at her.
'Yes. I feel quite well now; but I'm afraid I've given you a lot of trouble.'
'No, you haven't. Nothing I can do for you is a trouble to me. But don't you think you'd better take your jacket off? Here, let me help you.'
While he was helping with the jacket, Slyme suddenly took her in his arms and kissed her repeatedly.
There came a cry from the cradle, and at the sound a shudder went through Ruth's limp and unresisting form. She wrenched herself free from his passionate embrace, and struck at him so furiously that he recoiled before her and retired upstairs trembling and disconcerted.
The following week the Eastons' room was once again to let.
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