The morning post had brought her a letter from him, which had enclosed notes to the value of ten pounds towards the expenses of her enforced stay in London. Her reply told him that, as she had enough for present needs, she returned his money. She suggested that if he had no use for it, he could put it towards the expenses of providing their home; that she had arrived safely in London; that she was about to look for a lodging. She ended with passionately affectionate wishes for his wellbeing. When she had put the money and letter into the envelope, and this into her bag, her meal was banged down before her. She ordered a bottle of stout, for had she not to nourish another life beside her own? After Mavis had finished, she did not feel in the least disposed to go out. She sat back on the dingy plush seat, and enjoyed the sensation of the food doing her good. It was seven o'clock when she paid the waiter and joined the crowd now sauntering along Oxford Street. She walked towards Regent Circus, hoping to find a post-office, where she could get a stamp for Perigal's letter. She wondered if she should go to church, if only for a few minutes, but decided to keep away from a place of worship, feeling that her thoughts were too occupied with her troubles to give adequate attention to the service. A new, yet at the same time familiar dread, oppressed her. She seemed to get relief from hurrying along the crowded pavement. She longed to get settled for the night, but was still uncertain where to seek a lodging. She had some thought of taking the Tube, and looking about her in the direction of Hammersmith, but her one thought now was to get indoors with as little delay as possible. She remembered that there was a maze of private houses along the Tottenham Court Road, in many of which she had often noticed that there was displayed a card, announcing that apartments were to let. She took a 'bus to the Tottenham Court Road. Arrived there, she got out and walked along it, to turn, presently, to the right. Most of the houses, for all their substantial fronts, had an indefinable atmosphere of being down at heel, perhaps because many were almost in darkness. They looked like houses that were in no sense of the word homes. She selected one of the least forbidding and knocked at the door. After waiting some time, she heard footsteps scuffling along the passage. A blowsy, elderly, red-faced woman opened the door. She was clad in a greasy flannel dressing gown; unbrushed hair fell on her shoulders; naked, unclean toes protruded through holes in her stockings and slippers. "Good evening, dear," said the woman. Mavis turned to go. "Was you wanting rooms, my dear?" "I was." "I've the very thing you want. Don't run away." Mavis hesitated. "Don't judge of 'em by me. I ain't been quite myself, as you, being another lady, can quite understand, an' I overslep' myself a bit; but if you'll walk inside, you'll be glad you didn't go elsewhere."