“There’s only one for women, and that’s in Great Guildford Street, Southwark. You’d best go over Westminster Bridge and then enquire your way.”

I followed his directions and, much buffeted by cold and rain, found myself in the Kennington Road. I was directed to a workhouse near Lambeth Walk, where I interviewed the porter. He explained that his establishment was for men only, but that he would give me an order which would admit me to Southwark. Furthermore, he handed me a red counter, marked with the mystic figure One.

“If you give this to the tram conductor, he’ll give you a ticket,” he explained.

“What shall I have to do at the Workhouse?” I asked, rather frightened.

“Oh, nothing very terrible, my dear,” was the cheery reply. “They’ll take your money away till the morning, that is, if you have any. You can’t go in with more than a shilling, you know.”