slouched up and down and everywhere, in order to
rush up the circulation and keep warm.

One old woman, between fifty and sixty, a sheer
wreck, I had noticed, earlier in the night, standing
in Piccadilly, not far from Leicester Square. She
seemed to have neither the sense nor the strength
to get out of the rain or keep walking, but stood
stupidly, whenever she got the chance, meditating
on past days, I imagine, when life was young and
blood was warm. But she did not Q-et the chance
often. She was moved on by every policeman, and
it required an average of six moves to send her dod
dering off one man s beat and on to another s. By
three o clock she had progressed as far as St. James
Street, and as the clocks were striking four I saw
her sleeping soundly against the iron railings of
Green Park. A brisk shower was falling at the
time, and she must have been drenched to the skin.

Now, said I, at one o clock, to myself; consider
that you are a poor young man, penniless, in Lon
don Town, and that to-morrow you must look for
work. It is necessary, therefore, that you get some
sleep in order that you may have strength to look
for work and to do work in case you find it.

So I sat down on the stone steps of a building.
Five minutes later, a policeman was looking at me.
My eyes were wide open, so he only grunted and
passed on. Ten minutes later my head was on

[{UNDER THE ARCHES."}]

[[116]]

p115 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p116w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p117

v?