OFF THE STREETS Closed for little_tease
Roland finished his day in the sombre, unpleasant offices where he worked as a solicitor's clerk in the heart of Old London town. He himself was now on his way to the cramped room that he called home. As he approached the doorway he saw a small figure huddled in the doorway wrapped in a threadbare blanket in a vain attempt to keep out the creeping cold of the November evening.
He was about to step over the small pathetic figure when he saw a pale face looking up at him from the depths of the blanket, The face was deathly pale and thin, hollow sunken cheeks as if half starved with smudges of dirt across both cheeks. With a start he realised it was a girl, no more than nineteen. Even though she looked half starved she had an inner beauty that had his pulse racing. On impulse he asked her,
"Don't you have a home to go to, these streets after dark are no place for a girl alone?"
His question suggested that he was offering her shelter and when he stepped inside his room the girl followed him in. Once he had lit his oil lamp he could see her more clearly and she had dropped the blanket on the floor and he could see that she was dressed like a high class brothel girl from one of the gentlemen's brothels that abounded in this part of London. Even though her outer clothes were torn and dirty it was obvious what she was. He didn't want her in his house, if she had run away there would be people looking for her and he didn't want any trouble. He was about to tell her to leave when he saw the tears in her eyes and immediately softened, by no stretch of the imagination did she belong in a brothel. He found himself feeling protective towards her and said,
"You look as though you are hungry Miss, I'll warm some soup and then you can take a bath, then we can talk and you can tell me about yourself.
When he spoke about the bath he forgot that there was only the one room
Roland finished his day in the sombre, unpleasant offices where he worked as a solicitor's clerk in the heart of Old London town. He himself was now on his way to the cramped room that he called home. As he approached the doorway he saw a small figure huddled in the doorway wrapped in a threadbare blanket in a vain attempt to keep out the creeping cold of the November evening.
He was about to step over the small pathetic figure when he saw a pale face looking up at him from the depths of the blanket, The face was deathly pale and thin, hollow sunken cheeks as if half starved with smudges of dirt across both cheeks. With a start he realised it was a girl, no more than nineteen. Even though she looked half starved she had an inner beauty that had his pulse racing. On impulse he asked her,
"Don't you have a home to go to, these streets after dark are no place for a girl alone?"
His question suggested that he was offering her shelter and when he stepped inside his room the girl followed him in. Once he had lit his oil lamp he could see her more clearly and she had dropped the blanket on the floor and he could see that she was dressed like a high class brothel girl from one of the gentlemen's brothels that abounded in this part of London. Even though her outer clothes were torn and dirty it was obvious what she was. He didn't want her in his house, if she had run away there would be people looking for her and he didn't want any trouble. He was about to tell her to leave when he saw the tears in her eyes and immediately softened, by no stretch of the imagination did she belong in a brothel. He found himself feeling protective towards her and said,
"You look as though you are hungry Miss, I'll warm some soup and then you can take a bath, then we can talk and you can tell me about yourself.
When he spoke about the bath he forgot that there was only the one room