Happy are such women when some trumpery theft lands them in prison, for there at any rate a change of clothing is provided, and a bath is compulsory.
If we stand outside a men's shelter, we see a similar state of things, a waiting crowd.

A passive, content, strange mixed lot of humans.

Some of them who have been well educated, but are now reaping the harvest that follows the sowing of wild oats.

The submerged males are, on the whole, less repulsive than the women; dirt is less in evidence, and they exhibit a better standard of health.

But many of them are harking back to nature, and remind us of the pictures we have seen of primeval man.
I want to say a few words about the submerged that congregate on the Thames Embankment, and the humanity we have seen enter the cheap shelters.
My experience has shown me that they constitute the lowest grade and the least hopeful class of the submerged.