I offered
it to a man in Judd Street, who I thought appeared hungry. He
turned out to be a drunken ruffian. I could not make him
understand what I meant, and he followed me down the road abusing
me at the top of his voice, until, turning a corner without knowing
it, he plunged down Tavistock Place, shouting after the wrong man.
In the Euston Road I stopped a half-starved child and pressed it
upon her. She answered 'Not me!' and ran away. I heard her
calling shrilly after me, 'Who stole the goose?'
"I dropped it in a dark part of Seymour Street. A man picked it up
and brought it after me. I was unequal to any more explanations or
arguments. I gave him twopence and plodded on with it once more.
The pubs were just closing, and I went into one for a final drink.
As a matter of fact I had had enough already, being, as I am,
unaccustomed to anything more than an occasional class of beer.
But I felt depressed, and I thought it might cheer me. I think I
had gin, which is a thing I loathe.
"I meant to fling it over into Oakley Square, but a policeman had
his eye on me, and followed me twice round the railings.
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