“Ah—­good idea!” said Ronnie; and made his way to the refreshment room.

It was empty at this early hour, and quiet.  All the people with rushing feet and vaguely busy faces had breakfasted at a still earlier hour, in their own cosy homes.  Their wives had made their coffee.  To-morrow Helen would pour out his coffee.  It seemed an almost unbelievably happy thought.  How came such rapture to be connected with coffee?

He spent a minute or two in deciding at which of the many little marble tables he would sit.  He never remembered being offered so large or so varied a choice at Liverpool Street Station before.  You generally made a dash for the only empty table you saw, usually close to the door.  That was like Hobson’s choice—­this or none!  A stable of forty good steeds, always ready and fit for travelling, but the customer must take the horse which stood nearest to the door!

Well, to-day he had the run of the stable.  Forty good marble tables!  Which should he choose?

The young women behind the counter watched him with interest as he wandered about, carefully examining each table and sitting down tentatively at several.  At last he chose the most central, as being the furthest removed from Hobson’s choice; sat down, took the Infant out of its bag, and, screwing in its pointed foot, leaned it up against another chair at the table.

Then he found that one of the young women had come from behind the counter, and was standing at his elbow, patiently awaiting his pleasure.

He ordered a cup of coffee and a roll and butter, for himself; a glass of milk and a sponge-cake for the Infant.

Just after these were served, before he had had time to drink the steaming hot coffee, the friendly inspector arrived, accompanied by another railway official.  They said they had come to make sure Ronnie had found what he wanted in the refreshment room.

Ronnie thanked them for their civility, and showed them the Infant.

They looked at it with surprise and interest; but nudged one another when they noticed the glass of milk and the sponge-cake, which Ronnie had carefully pushed across to the Infant’s side of the table.

Then they saluted, and went out.

Left alone, Ronnie drank his coffee.

It instantly cleared his brain of the after-effects of the sleeping draught which Aubrey had insisted upon giving him just before the steamer sailed the night before.  His surroundings ceased to appear dream-like.  A great wave of happiness swept over him.

Why, he was in London again!  He was almost at home!  If he had let Helen meet him, she might have been sitting just opposite, at this little marble table!

He looked across and saw the unconscious Infant’s glass of milk and sponge-cake.  He drew them hurriedly towards him.  He felt suddenly ashamed of them.  It was possible to carry a joke too far in public.  He knew Helen would say:  “Don’t be silly, Ronnie!”