You've been in this room since seven o'clock this morning and it's dam near time you was out of it!' Newman muttered something about being nearly finished now, and Hunter ascended to the next landing--the attics, where the cheap man--Sawkins, the labourer--was at work.

Harlow had been taken away from the attics to go on with some of the better work, so Sawkins was now working alone.

He had been slogging into it like a Trojan and had done quite a lot.

He had painted not only the sashes of the window, but also a large part of the glass, and when doing the skirting he had included part of the floor, sometimes an inch, sometimes half an inch.
The paint was of a dark drab colour and the surface of the newly painted doors bore a strong resemblance to corduroy cloth, and from the bottom corners of nearly every panel there was trickling down a large tear, as if the doors were weeping for the degenerate condition of the decorative arts.

But these tears caused to throb of pity in the bosom of Misery: neither did the corduroy-like surface of the work grate upon his feelings.