Well fed and well clad, I have travelled all day with the spirit thermometer down to seventy-four degrees below zero--one hundred and six degrees of frost {1}; and though I suffered, it was a mere nothing compared with carrying the banner for a night, ill fed, ill clad, and soaking wet.
The streets grew very quiet and lonely after the theatre crowd had gone home.

Only were to be seen the ubiquitous policemen, flashing their dark lanterns into doorways and alleys, and men and women and boys taking shelter in the lee of buildings from the wind and rain.

Piccadilly, however, was not quite so deserted.

Its pavements were brightened by well-dressed women without escort, and there was more life and action there than elsewhere, due to the process of finding escort.

But by three o'clock the last of them had vanished, and it was then indeed lonely.
At half-past one the steady downpour ceased, and only showers fell thereafter.