He wrote down:
“I want my clothes. I don’t think I want my books. You can sell the car. You gave me a nice picture once by some German. I think I should like you to send that. I have been walking about London. It is very wonderful. A railway porter was nice to me, and there are other friendly people.”
He stopped. Ann said:
“The address is 6 Mitcham Mews, West Kensington.”
He wrote that down. There was something else he wanted to say, but he could not fix in his mind a sufficient image of Linda to be able to write to her. So he gave it up presently and only added: “That’s all,” and his signature.
The letter was addressed and stamped, and Ann, still limping, took it to the post.
When she returned, she said:
“I’ve fixed you up. You’re to sleep with Jimmy at No. 10 until your things come, and then we’ll begin to think. You’re not much use to anybody now, are you?”
“No,” said he. Then he began to stammer out an apology.