e later years, to noting clothes; but he
did feel actually unkempt before this mirror of the time. Yet why? For
in the old days also Reardon had been rather vain of outward conformity.
He had striven then to make up by every last nicety of dress and manner
for the something his origin had lacked. It was not indeed the
perfection of his dress that disconcerted; it was the kind of man
Reardon had grown to be: for of him the clothes did, in their degree,
testify. Jeffrey was conscious that every muscle in Reardon's body had
its just measure of attention. Reardon had organised the care of that
being who was himself. He had provided richly for his future, wiped out
his past where it threatened to gall him, and was giving due
consideration to his present. He meant supremely to be safe, and to that
end he had entrenched himself on every side. Jeff felt a very
disorganised, haphazard sort of being indeed before so complete a
creature. And Reardon, so far from breaking into the old intimacy that
Jeff had seen still living behind them in a sunny calm, only waiting for
the gate to be opened on it again, stood there distinctly embarrassed
and nothing more.

"Jeff!" said he. "How are you?" That was not enough. He found it
lacking, and added, with a deepened shade of warmth, "How are you, old
man?"

Now he put out his hand, but it had been so long in coming that Jeff
gave no sign of seeing it.

"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.

"I bought it six years ago. Had it put in perfect repair. The plumbing
cost me--well! you know what old houses are