Jackdaws
“At its heart was "La Charbo," the rue de la Charbonnire. On the north side of the street, the convent of la Chapelle stood like a marble statue in a junkyard. The convent consisted of a tiny church and a house where eight nuns dedicated their lives to helping the most wretched of Parisians. They made soup for starving old men, talked depressed women out of suicide, dragged drunk sailors from the gutter, and taught the children of prostitutes to read and write. Next door to the convent stood the... Hotel de la Chapelle.
The hotel was not exactly a brothel, for there were no whores in residence, but when the place was not full the proprietress was willing to rent rooms by the hour to heavily made-up women in cheap evening gowns who arrived with fat French businessmen, furtive German soldiers, or naive young men too drunk to see straight.
Flick walked through the door with a mighty sense of relief. The gendarmes had dropped her off half a mile away. She had seen two copies of her Wanted poster on the way.MoreLess
The hotel was not exactly a brothel, for there were no whores in residence, but when the place was not full the proprietress was willing to rent rooms by the hour to heavily made-up women in cheap evening gowns who arrived with fat French businessmen, furtive German soldiers, or naive young men too drunk to see straight.
Flick walked through the door with a mighty sense of relief. The gendarmes had dropped her off half a mile away. She had seen two copies of her Wanted poster on the way.MoreLess
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