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.