From chapter 25 of Down and Out in Paris London: As soon as we were inside the spike [homeless shelter] and had been lined up for the search, the Tramp Major c

From chapter 25 of Down and Out in Paris London: As soon as we were inside the spike [homeless shelter] and had been lined up for the search, the Tramp Major called my name. He was a stiff, soldierly man of forty, not looking the bully he had been represented, but with an old soldier's gruffness. He said sharply: 'Which of you is Blank?' (I forget what name I had given.) 'Me, sir.' 'So you are a journalist?' 'Yes, sir,' I said, quaking. A few questions would betray the fact that I had been lying, which might mean prison. But the Tramp Major only looked me up and down and said: 'Then you are a gentleman?' 'I suppose so.' He gave me another long look. 'Well, that's bloody bad luck, guv'nor,' he said; 'bloody bad luck that is.' And thereafter he treated me with unfair favouritism, and even with a kind of deference. He did not search me, and in the bathroom he actually gave me a clean towel to myself -- an unheard-of luxury. So powerful is the word 'gentleman' in an old soldier's ear.