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But when he came to myself, he looked hard at me, and said: 'You are a gentleman? The room became a press of steaming nudity, the sweaty odours of the tramps competing with the sickly, sub-faecal stench native to the spike.
We hid them in our socks, except for the twenty or so per cent who had no socks, and had to carry the tobacco in their boots, even under their very toes.
You'd get seven days for going into the spike with eightpence!
' So I buried my money in a hole under the hedge, marking the spot with a lump of flint.
Littered on the grass, we seemed dingy, urban riff-raff.
We defiled the scene, like sardine-tins and paper bags on the seashore.
You couldn't call your soul your own when he was about, and many a tramp had he kicked out in the middle of the night for giving a back answer.