As I walked down the passage I wondered if the drunk was still in the next cell; it was quite still now.

The policeman met me at the top of the stairs with a cup of strong tea.

“I was just going to bring this to you,” he said. I suddenly felt very pleased, and drank the tea while he looked up Mr. Day’s address again. Then, after he had told me which way to go, I thanked him and said good-bye.

I lost my way several times, but at last, after going under a railway bridge with gaudy posters pasted on the walls, I came to the street. As I stood in front of the number we had looked up, I wondered if the family I knew lived there or not.

I walked up through the mean little rockery and rang the bell. The door was in two shades of brown, like a bar of milk and plain chocolate. When it opened I saw Mrs. Day standing in front of me. She had a dark skin and was timid; she just blinked at me and said nothing. Then she recovered a little and I began a long string of explanations.

She led me through the house to the dining-room, where Mr. Day and the baby were eating boiled eggs. The baby stared at me from his high chair, letting a long ribbon of egg roll down on to his towel bib. Mr. Day was staring at me too; I could tell how curious and surprised his blue eyes were in his dried-up, rather boyish face.

I was glad that I knew my story so well, I did not want to confess anything to these people.

I asked Mr. Day to lend me ten shillings to pay for my ticket to London, explaining that I had lost some money.

“Oh, but you must have a pound,” he answered.

I said that ten shillings would do, but hoped that he would give me the pound; then I was asked to sit down and have breakfast with them.

We talked of Switzerland, where I had first met them, as I had the Brandons, and I told them about my night in a prison cell, hoping that it would keep them from asking dangerous questions.

Afterwards I was shown Mr. Day’s antique furniture, the very polished oak and walnut that he liked. I was told about the rings the dealers made at auctions so that amateurs could not buy anything.

It was comfortable to be with a family again; although I did not really like the Days at all, I felt almost safe; not alone in a strange town with no money.

Mr. Day took me to the station before he drove to his office. I thanked him again very much and went to the booking-office to pay my full fare to London. I was tired of lying and contriving.

The carriage I got into was nearly full. There was a plump, youngish man correcting exercise books, a mother and her baby, and several others. They did not sit, as usual, in stolid silence, but soon began a lively argument.

It is strange that they chose the public schools to talk about. My heart jumped; I wanted to tell my story. I was vain about it, but my good sense told me not to and I only made ordinary remarks.

The man with the exercise books was a schoolmaster and he hated the system, but the mother with the baby thought it a very good start in life for most boys. The conversation shifted to snobbery, and it stayed there for the rest of the journey. Everyone seemed to have something to say.

At last the schoolmaster got up, saying that he was going to the restaurant car for a cup of tea. He turned to me and asked me to go with him. I was delighted, but I did not go; I wondered if he really wanted to pay for me.

Instead, I sat in my corner and thought. I suddenly realized what was waiting for me at the other end.

I would have to face my family.

The schoolmaster came back and went on with the conversation, but I could not talk, I was too anxious.

I decided at last to go to a friend’s flat and to explain everything to her. She would understand, she could tell my family.

When the train arrived I quickly got a taxi. I did not want to think; I knew that my resolution would grow weak.