"I'll walk along with you," he said.
"No, no." Reardon was calling upon reserves of decency and good feeling. "You'll do nothing of the sort. Come in."
"No," said Jeff. "I was walking. I'll go along with you."
Now Reardon came down the steps and put an insistent hand on his shoulder.
"Jeff," said he, "come on in. You surprised me. That's the truth. I wasn't prepared. I hadn't looked for you."
Jeff went up the steps; it seemed, indeed, emotional to do less. But at the door he halted and his eyes sought the chairs at hand.
"Can't we," said he, "sit down here?"
Reardon, with a courteous acquiescence, went past one of the chairs, leaving it for him, and dropped into another. Jeff took his, and found nothing to say. One of them had got to make a civil effort. Jeff, certain he had no business there, took his hand at it.
"This was the old Pelham house?"
Reardon assented, in evident relief, at so remote a topic.