And, like the old woman, I continued to get; for every time I dozed, a policeman was there to rout me along again.

Not long after, when I had given this up, I was walking with a young Londoner (who had been out to the colonies and wished he were out to them again), when I noticed an open passage leading under a building and disappearing in darkness.

A low iron gate barred the entrance.
"Come on," I said.

"Let's climb over and get a good sleep." "Wot ?" he answered, recoiling from me.

"An' get run in fer three months! Blimey if I do!" Later on I was passing Hyde Park with a young boy of fourteen or fifteen, a most wretched-looking youth, gaunt and hollow-eyed and sick.
"Let's go over the fence," I proposed, "and crawl into the shrubbery for a sleep.