His one longing at that moment was for food and rest.

Since Saturday morning his eyes had never closed, and yet, strange as it may seem, he could take in no more of the future than what lay before him on this one night.

The sudden prospect now of being turned out into the street was overwhelming.
"I think you are mistaken," repeated Mr Halgrove, tossing the end of his cigar into the fireplace and yawning.
"But, sir," began Jeffreys, raising himself slowly to his feet, for he was stiff and cramped after his long journey, "I've walked--" "So you said," interrupted Mr Halgrove, incisively.

"You will be used to it." At that moment Jeffreys decided the question of his night's lodging in a most unlooked-for manner by doing what he had never done before, and what he never did again.
He fainted.
When he next was aware of anything he was lying in his own bed upstairs in broad daylight, and Mr Halgrove's housekeeper was depositing a tray with some food upon it at his side.

He partook gratefully, and dropped off to sleep again without rousing himself enough to recall the events of the past evening.