Some were already off to sleep, when back came the policeman and away we scattered only to return again as soon as the coast was clear.
At half-past seven a little door opened, and a Salvation Army soldier stuck out his head.

"Ayn't no sense blockin' the wy up that wy," he said.

"Those as 'as tickets cawn come hin now, an' those as 'asn't cawn't come hin till nine." Oh, that breakfast! Nine o'clock! An hour and a half longer! The men who held tickets were greatly envied.

They were permitted to go inside, have a wash, and sit down and rest until breakfast, while we waited for the same breakfast on the street.

The tickets had been distributed the previous night on the streets and along the Embankment, and the possession of them was not a matter of merit, but of chance.
At eight-thirty, more men with tickets were admitted, and by nine the little gate was opened to us.