When I was a child my father did
a lot of travelling on business (yes, we defenders of privilege at Plumstead
Rectory spring from the commercial classes). At that time hotels were very
vigilant about guests entertaining visitors in their rooms, whether from moral
or financial motives, or both. It was not uncommon for the manager to call
round late at night, asking sternly “have you got a woman in your room, sir?”
My father maintained the theory
that there were two classes of hotel for business travellers: the better sort, where
if one answered “yes” to this question the lady would be asked to leave, and
the seedier sort, where if one answered “no” a lady would be thrown in.
