“There’s no need to spend all that money,” she protested. “Come with me, and I’ll get you put up for a few pence. I know a place where they charge fourpence, but as you’re a friend of mine they will take you for half.”

It didn’t sound alluring, but I refused to be fainthearted. I was going to follow the stream and chance where it took me, even though it found its way into strange places. I told her I was much obliged, and would willingly go with her, and after a little more chat we left the bar and made our way across Piccadilly Circus, down the Embankment and across Waterloo Bridge.

She did not speak all the way. The habit of walking engenders silence; you get half doped with the unceasing exercise and have little energy for speech. I was frankly curious as to my companion’s history. But I never learned very much about her. She must have made enough to keep herself by selling her goods, but she belonged to no type of outcast in any settled place.