He reproached himself for neglect of his promise to Mrs. Brewer.
More than that, he charged himself with foolish disregard of a
possibility which might have boundless significance for him. Here,
it seemed, was sufficient motive for a return to London. The
alternative was to wander on, and see more of foreign countries; a
tempting suggestion, but marred by the prospect of loneliness. He
would go back among his own people and make friends. Without
comradeship, liberty had little savour.

Still travelling with as small expense as might be, he reached
London in the forenoon, left his luggage at Victoria Station, and,
after a meal, betook himself in the northerly direction. It was a
rainy and uncomfortable day, but this did not much affect his
spirits; he felt like a man new risen from illness, seemed to have
cast off something that had threatened his very existence, and
marvelled at the state of mind in which it had been possible for him
to inhabit London without turning his steps towards the address of
Eve Madeley.

He discovered Belmont Street. It consisted of humble houses, and was
dreary enough to look upon. As he sought for No. 93, a sudden
nervousness attacked him; he became conscious all at once of the
strangeness of his position. At his hour it. was unlikely that Eve
would be at home an inquiry at the house and the leaving of a verbal
message would discharge his obligation; but he proposed more than
that. It was his resolve to see Eve herself, to behold the face
which, in a picture, had grown so familiar to him. Yet till this
moment he had overlooked the difficulties of the enterprise. Could
he, on the strength of an acquaintance with Mrs. Brewer, claim the
friendly regards of this girl who had never heard his name? If he