London. When he desired to answer the letter, he found he had lost
it and could not remember the suburb, much less the street and
number, whither Jane had migrated. A letter posted to the old
address was returned through the post. The tour over, and he being
again in London, he went on an errand of inquiry to Cricklewood,
found the house empty and the neighbours and tradespeople ignorant.
The poorer classes of London in their migrations seldom leave a
trail behind them. Their correspondence being rare, it is not within
their habits of life to fill up post-office forms with a view to
the forwarding of letters. He could not write to Jane because he did
not in the least know where she was.

He reflected with dismay that Jane could, for the same reason, no
longer write to him. Ironic chance had so arranged that the landlady
with whom he usually lodged in town, and whose house he used as a
permanent address, had given up letting lodgings at the beginning of
the tour, and had drifted into the limbo of London. Jane's only
guide to his whereabouts had been the tour card which he had sent
her as usual, giving dates and theatres. And the tour was over. On
the chance that Jane, not hearing from him, should address a letter
to the last theatre on the list, he communicated at once with the
local management. But as local managements of provincial theatres
shape their existences so as to avoid responsibilities of any kind
save the maintenance of their bars and the deduction of their
percentages from the box-office receipts, Paul knew that it was
ludicrous to expect it to interest itself in the correspondence of
an obscure member of a fourth-rate company which had once played to
tenth-rate business within its mildewed walls. Being young, he wrote
also to the human envelope containing the essence of stale beer,
tobacco and lethargy that was the stage doorkeeper. But he might