![]() It is an old, sad, sickening, grim story to most of them and men are fools, dogs, idiots, with rarely anything fine or interesting in their eyes. It smacks too much of the brutal and evil and after all there is a certain element of romance involved in these drabby liaisons for the average man, even if there is none-as there is none-for the woman. Many men are timid about bargaining with a woman beforehand. Your timid man hearing this and being possibly a new or infrequent adventurer in this world, becomes fearful of a scene. She created a great scene, broke some pottery over his head, and caused a general uproar in the house. The result was, of course, according to her, dreadful for the man. She told the customary story of the man who picked her up and, having escorted her to her room, offered her a pound when three or four pounds or a much larger sum even was expected. Those who know anything of women-the street type-know how often this is tried. ![]() Other women had told her of their successes. Experience had trained her to think constantly of how much money she could extract from men-not the normal fee, there is little more than a poor living in that, but extravagant sums which produce fine clothes and jewels, according to their estimate of these things. Then, somehow, because the conversation was getting friendly, I fancy, this little Welsh girl decided perhaps that I was not so severe as I seemed. Now the truth is you are a silly little liar and you think you are going to frighten me, by telling me this, into giving you two or three pounds. “You are telling me one of the oldest stories of the trade. She looked at me, but no angry rage sprang to her eyes. “I’m a new experience in men,�?I suggested. “You don’t like women, do you?�?she asked. “It’s true just the same,�?she said meekly. I thought at the time, if she would look down on them, what must they be?īut to continue: “He laid a sovereign on the table and I went for him,�?she said. The girls are lucky if they get three shillings and they are poor miserable drabs. There is another place in the East End-I don’t recall where-where the poor Jews and others walk, but they are a dreadful lot, she assured me. ![]() Piccadilly is the great walking-ground, I understood, after one o’clock in the morning Leicester119 Square and the regions adjacent, between seven and eleven. She told me of the police regulations which permit a woman to go with a man, if he speaks to her first, without being arrested-not otherwise-and of the large number of women who are in the business. We drew up chairs before it and I plied her with questions. I began to repent of my boorishness and recklessly lighted the fire (cost-one shilling).
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