Finally he leaned back in his chair and deliberately regarded Mr. Hamilton, upon whom he had hitherto bestowed only fleeting and furtive glances. All to no purpose: his companion remained deeply engrossed with the work in hand. Never had Teddie known him so utterly impervious to his surroundings. In the outer office he knew well enough that occasional murmured remarks were made now and again, or a joke was cracked: all helping to pass the tedium of the long morning with less insupportable dryness than seemed to be his fate here. Three hours had now elapsed in unbroken silence. With an impatient sigh he languidly resumed his work. But that sigh was too much for the soft-hearted side of Mr. Hamilton’s nature. He looked up. Teddie was viciously making a full-stop with the point of a long-suffering pen. In truth, so hard had he dug into the paper that the withdrawal of the pen caused a splutter of ink, destroying the fair surface of the foolscap. With a low-breathed imprecation he, too, looked up, somewhat guiltily, and met his companion’s eyes. "You don’t seem quite so busy just now," Mr. Hamilton observed drily. "No," Teddy returned shortly. "Hang it all," he added, in his old, peppery way, "a fellow cannot keep up the pace that I have been going these three hours and more." He certainly had done more in those three hours than he often achieved in a day, the elder man noted with amusement. "Perhaps you have leisure to answer a question or two?" he asked cheerfully. "I am rather puzzled. I am not aware that I had expressed a wish—that I had, in short, asked any one to come in this morning. You were so very busy, I did not care to disturb you by inquiring why you had come." Teddy was somewhat abashed, but he still looked his interlocutor squarely in the eyes. "I thought perhaps it was a bit dull in here for you alone," he said coolly. "I don’t care where I sit; but this chair and table are more comfortable than that rotten stool and desk." "So you put up with my company for the sake of the more agreeable furniture?" Mr. Hamilton rejoined, eyeing him keenly. "As to that, your company is good enough," Teddie admitted. "I thought, you know," he added, dropping his pen on the floor and diving after it, "we might get on rather well, if this table were looked upon as mine." Mr. Hamilton was conquered. "Put your work away, and let us have a chat before going out to lunch," he said. "And yes, my boy," he added genially, "suppose we consider that your table, and let us for the future share this room together. What do you say?" "Done," Teddie resumed briefly. But his companion was content with the reply. The boy had flushed up and was looking immensely gratified. At this juncture there came a knock on the door, and a clerk entered to say, that Mr. Desborough’s servant desired to speak with Mr. Le Mesurier. In some wonder Teddie followed him into the outer office, and, taking the man apart, asked his business.