My favourite ‘Picture Palace’ (as the cinematograph is called in London) is situated in the gloomiest part of the East End. Its auditorium is located under an urban railway bridge.

Unaccustomed viewers go stiff with horror when trains thunder over their heads, making double the usual racket. The place is reminiscent of some colossal and gloomy stable. The dirt is incredible! In tribute to Dante, one could trace the following inscription above the doors of the ‘Palace’: ‘Abandon squeamishness all ye who enter here’. But instead of this inscription, someone has daubed the following words over the entrance in bold paint: ‘Entrance fee 1d.’.

It is Sunday. The twilight comes early. At four o’clock or even earlier, the day begins to die. Factory girls go out in groups and pairs ‘for a promenade’ along the pavements of a damp and dirty East End street. One hears snatches of conversation and hysterical laughter. The gas lights are turned on.

Near the entrance to the cinema, where shines the ‘1d.’ inscription, there is an incredible crush of people. The crowd is largely made up of children, mostly boys. All of them are wearing white turndown collars – though looking rather black now – and grey caps on their heads. Hands are thrust inside the pockets of their trousers. Lips are pursed for whistling. While waiting their turn, they cheerily whistle popular East End tunes and in general behave in an entirely nonchalant and independent manner.

Some among them are just tiny tots. They wait for the doors to open with their index finger in their mouth, looking pensively to the side. Only the infants brought here by mothers who could not possibly leave them at home betray their impatience. Some whine plaintively, and others scream until they are hoarse.

The doors finally open. Three quarters of the huge auditorium are filled with children. The piano starts its jingling, the soles of someone's feet flicker at the top of the screen, then disappear, and finally, the entire picture, shaking and wobbling like jelly, takes its proper place across the length and breadth of the screen.