The Awful Business of the Door-Handle
I first went to the casual ward under very melancholy conditions. I was dispirited to find that my entry into commerce had been postponed. I had high hopes as to what I should achieve in the sale of cigarette cases, etc. , on commission. But my friend of the plush coat did not turn up. I went to the public-house again that evening, but she was not there. My low spirits were reflected in my trade—I could not get my matches off, and no one would give me more than twopence. I watched the outside of that public house with a sinking heart. I had two coppers on me after a purchase of a cup of tea and a miserable bun, and there was no means by which I could raise any more. My only chance of escaping an unpleasant experience was to go home. But that would have been to confess failure, and when it comes to the fundamentals of life I always develop a certain sticking power. I decided to see this experience through.