A Very Gallant Gentleman
To spend a whole night in the streets is an experience that has a permanent effect on the psychology.
My first adventure of this kind found me unprepared. I was compelled to walk about, not from lack of money to pay for a bed, but because I could not find any place that would take me in.
It was on a Saturday night, and I had had a good day. I had got into touch with my friend of the plush coat, and had secured from her a number of cigarette cases which I had sold at profit to myself. After I had bought myself a meal and a glass of port, I was the proud possessor of three shillings and sixpence, and I felt entitled to a luxurious time. I had learned from my fellow outcasts that the beds at the Church Army Shelter in Great Peter Street were very cosy, and I anticipated an agreeable lodging. Sunday, I knew, there would not be much trade astir, so I could stay in bed as long as they would let me, buy myself a bit of lunch, and resume my commercial activities in the evening, reinvigorated and refreshed.