And this is the question which must be faced in any discussion of social conditions. The usual alternative to the streets offered to the prostitute is work at a washtub. “Homes for Fallen Women”⁠—the name emblazoned all over the building⁠—lay great stress on the curative properties of a laundry. Clear starching, it would seem, cleanses all sin, and an expert ironer can cheerfully put her record behind her. It is thought, apparently, that residence in a place of this description, where femininity is herded together, devoid of that cold, brutal masculinity without which women in the herd cannot keep sane, will purge them of all desire for their old calling. Frankly, the majority of them have no “desire” for prostitution. If they could get their living any other way and, at the same time, retain their liberty of action, there would not be much hesitation. But it is not feasible to expect that a young woman should prefer the undiluted society of her own sex, varied by long arduous hours of physical toil, to the chances of a life of adventure, even though that life means frequently going without a bed.