“Yes.”
“Come in.”
Sir Seymour stepped in.
“Take off your coat?”
“If you’ll allow me. I won’t keep you long.”
“The longer the better!” said Garstin with offhand heartiness. He had taken a liking to his visitor at first sight.
“A damned fine old chap!” had been his instant mental comment on seeing Sir Seymour. “A fellow to swear by!”
“Come upstairs. I’ll show you the way,” he added.
He tramped up and Sir Seymour followed him.
“I do most of my painting here,” said Garstin. “Sit down. Have a cigar.”