She gave him writing materials and he drew up to the table and sat staring at the blank sheet of paper. He took pen in hand, but could not write, could not concentrate his will even that much. "What am I to say?" he asked. "Don't you know?" "No." "Well, I'm blowed! If you aren't the funniest. . . . It's to your wife! Don't you know what to say to your wife?" He wrote: "Dear Linda----" Then he thought of Linda in a friendly, distant fashion, as someone charming and taking whom he had known, of whom it was pleasant to think. "Dear Linda, Linda Brock, Lin----" Ann saw his hesitation, and suggested: "You want your clothes." He wrote down: "I want my clothes. I don't think I want my books. You can sell the car. You gave me a nice picture once by some German. I think I should like you to send that. I have been walking about London. It is very wonderful. A railway porter was nice to me, and there are other friendly people." He stopped. Ann said: "The address is 6 Mitcham Mews, West Kensington." He wrote that down. There was something else he wanted to say, but he could not fix in his mind a sufficient image of Linda to be able to write to her. So he gave it up presently and only added: "That's all," and his signature. The letter was addressed and stamped, and Ann, still limping, took it to the post. When she returned, she said: "I've fixed you up. You're to sleep with Jimmy at No. 10 until your things come, and then we'll begin to think. You're not much use to anybody now, are you?" "No," said he. Then he began to stammer out an apology. "Silly," said Ann. "Just a lost boy, that's what you are. Lucky for you it was me and not the police found you. They'd have sent you back where you came from." She saw that it was useless to joke with René and soon dropped her bantering tone. She took him for a walk round the houses, and was delighted when he remembered that he must have a clean collar and a toothbrush; a return to grace, or sense. "Oh! I'd be sorry now if it wasn't true, and you went back." "I shan't go back." Her question, the necessity of responding to her spontaneity, brought back in a sudden flood his will, and he had a quick pleasure in feeling the air upon his face and seeing the evening color of the streets. "No. I shan't go back. People can't go back. But my father went back." "Why did you say that?" "What did I say?" "'But my father went back.'" "Did I? I didn't know I said that. I didn't know I even thought of him." "I know," said Ann. "It's like suddenly finding yourself talking aloud. And don't you feel a fool if there's anybody listening?" They bought collar, toothbrush, pajamas, and a red sausage for supper. With these they returned to Mitcham Mews and had to wait up until Jimmy at No. 10 turned up. He did so about one o'clock, a strange figure strutting up the mews, beaming all over his face, and humming: