At any rate
she'd rather go to the workhouse than stay where she was. So, about
one o'clock, we both crept out by a back way, and ran into Edgware
Road. There we said good-bye, and she went one way, and I another.
"All that night I walked about, for fear of being noticed loitering
by a policeman. When it was morning, I had come round to Hyde Park,
and, though it was terribly cold--just in March--I went to sleep
on a seat. I woke about ten o'clock, and walked off into the town,
seeking a poor part, where I thought it more likely I might find
something to do. Of course I asked first of all at eating-houses,
but no one wanted me. It was nearly dark, and I hadn't tasted
anything. Then I begged of one or two people--I forgot everything
but my hunger--and they gave me a few coppers. I bought some
bread, and still wandered about. There are some streets into which I
can never bear to go now; the thought of walking about them eight
years ago is too terrible to me. Well, I walked till midnight, and
then could stand up no longer. I found myself in a dirty little
street where the house doors stood open all night; I went into one,
and walked up as far as the first landing, and there fell down in a
corner and slept all night.
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