The homeless folk came away from the protection of the buildings, and 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 get the chance often.

She was moved on by every policeman, and it required an average of six moves to send her doddering 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.