"It's where the boat-race is," said the porter. "I been there. An hour in a bus or train." "I mean--to walk. I'd like to walk. To see London. I've never seen it, you know." "It'd be Fulham Road, I fancy, though I don't know those parts well. Friends at Putney?" "Someone I know there." "I see. You'll be going home soon. Return ticket?" "No. I just wanted to see London. At least, there was a train going to London." "Ain't lost your memory, have you, mate?" "No," said René. "No. I've lost interest in it, that's all." "Money? Got any money?" René thrust his hand into his pocket and produced three pounds and a few shillings. "And no friends," said the porter to himself. "Well, you are a corker, and no mistake! Set on going to Putney, are you?" René nodded. "Well, if you want a friend, come to me." And he wrote down an address in Kentish Town which René pocketed without looking at it. "But if I was you," said the little man, "I should go back home, I should, really. See your friends and go back home. I had a brother once who got crossed in love. Took it something crool, he did, and walked out of the house one day after breakfast and went to Canada. We sent him the money to come home, and now he's doing well in the drysalting. Good-by, mate, and good luck." He held out a grimy paw, and René clasped it warmly. It was, he felt, a good beginning. For some time he sat in the pull-up watching the busy trade in victuals, the burly carters, weedy clerks and boys come in and gulp down their food and drink as though the beginning of the day's work hardly left them time for their natural necessities. It was all oddly familiar and like enough to the life he had been accustomed to in the school and university among factories and warehouses. Only, as he looked out of the window, the light was different, softer and more generous. It was exciting and invited him out. He paid the bill, returned to the station, and washed and had himself shaved. As he left the barber's shop he saw a train loading up for its journey to Thrigsby, and he stayed and watched it go out for the pleasure of feeling that he was not in it. Then he turned briskly away for the adventure of the plunge into London.