“If you’re looking for gay rooms,” said a third with brutal directness, “you’d better try the other side of Oxford Street. You won’t find anything to suit you round here. We have to be too careful of the police.”
When at last Nancy did reach a quarter where landladies appeared less dismayed by the prospect of letting to a single woman, she found that the most exorbitant prices were asked in every house.
“Two pounds a week for a bedroom only,” said one. “Or if you have a latchkey, three pounds.”
“But why should I pay a pound a week for a latchkey?” Nancy asked in astonishment.
“Well, if you have your own latchkey, I shouldn’t make any extra charge for the gentlemen you brought home. Otherwise I’d have to charge you five shillings a head.”
Nancy laughed.
“But I don’t want to bring gentlemen home with me. I’m on the stage,” she explained.
The stolid countenance of the woman with whom she was negotiating did not change its expression.
“If you don’t want to bring men back, you don’t want a room in my house.”
With this she slammed the door in Nancy’s face, obviously annoyed at the waste of her time.