the card marking a small oblong on the ledge of one of the upper panes. I looked closer, to read the actual letters: Apartments.
Not seeing either bell or knocker, I rapped at the door with my knuckles.
An old woman holding up a guttering candle half-opened it. I said:
'Do you let apartments?'
'I've a room. Yes.'
'How much is it a week? '
'Five shillings a week, sir.'
'Oh!'
A pause. I turned away considering.
'—But I think I could take four, sir, perhaps?' she said.
'Will you let me see it?' I asked.
'Please step upstairs, sir.—Mind the wall, sir, it comes off.'
I followed her upstairs.
I took the room, and paid for two weeks in advance. The furniture consisted of a bed, a washing-stand, a table, a chair, and two ragged scraps of carpet, one under the table, one by the side of the bed. There was a looking-glass over the chimney-piece, and three photographs in faded violet frames of velvet, worn out: Napoleon iii, the Empress Eugenie, and the Prince Imperial as a boy. She had left a gas-jet turned full on.
I bolted the door, and began pulling off my coat, when I felt the emptiness inside me again. I sat down on the unsteady chair, and began thinking about what had occurred to me to-day; but I soon gave it up: rose and, for a moment, stood irresolute whether to go out and get some food, or to ask this woman, Mrs. Smith, for some, or to get into bed without any? At last I thought I would get into bed. Sleep, cool quiet sleep, would calm and refresh me.
I threw my waistcoat on to the top of the coat, and stood irresolute again, stretching my arms up and down. Then an impulse came to me. I fell down on to my knees and, leaning my arms on the bed, leant my head on my arms. I began in a half whisper:
'If there be a God'
