I may mention that for the last fourteen years the Major
in charge, night by night, has tramped the streets with this object.
The Titchfield Street flat is not in any sense a Home, but I saw a
small room in it, with two beds, where cases who may be rescued from
the streets, or come here in a time of trouble, can sleep until
arrangements are made for them to proceed to one of the Rescue
Institutions of the Army.
This work is one of the most difficult and comparatively unproductive
of any that the Army undertakes. The careers of these unfortunate
street women, who are nearly all of them very fine specimens of female
humanity, for the most part follow a rocket-like curve. The majority
of them begin by getting into trouble, at the end of which, perhaps,
they find themselves with a child upon their hands. Or they may have
been turned out of their homes, or some sudden misfortune may have
reduced them to destitution. At any rate, the result is that they take
to a loose life, and mayhap, after living under the protection of one
or two men, find themselves upon the streets.
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