Now between asking what to do and doing it, there is a wide gulf fixed. I had an awful tussle with myself before I plucked up courage to knock at the Hostel door. But I wasn’t going to be beaten before I had begun the fight, and having walked up and down the street a few times I put my faith to the test.

The portress told me that there was no accommodation for itinerant wayfarers⁠—the Hostel was reserved for women in regular situations, who could pay a reasonable sum.

“But I’ve nowhere to go,” I pleaded. “Isn’t there any place where I can put up?”

“There’s a Salvation Army Shelter in Mare Street, Hackney, where they’ll give you free bed and breakfast. It’s a long way, though,” she added, “and I can’t be sure they’ll take you in, because they may not have a bed.”