I would fall in a faint on a strange doorstep, and be found dead in the morning, and be pitied.
Wouldn't that be interesting! The adventure might even end happily.

I might faint at the door of a rich old man's house, who would take me in, and order his housekeeper to nurse me, just like in the story books.

In my delirium--of course I would have a fever--I would talk about the landlady, and how I had tried to earn the rent; and the old gentleman would wipe his spectacles for pity.

Then I would wake up, and ask plaintively, "Where am I ?" And when I got strong, after a delightfully long convalescence, the old gentleman would take me to Dover Street--in a carriage!--and we would all be reunited, and laugh and cry together.

The old gentleman, of course, would engage my father as his steward, on the spot, and we would all go to live in one of his houses, with a garden around it.
I walked on and on, gleefully aware that I had not eaten since morning.