In the afternoon Joel got into his oldest clothes and tramped over to Hampton House.

The window of West's room looked bright and cheerful, for a big wood fire was blazing on the hearth within.

Joel kicked the mud from his shoes, and passing through the great white door with its old-fashioned fanlight above, tapped at West's room.

A faint response from beyond the portal summoned him in.
The owner of the room was sandpapering a golf shaft before the fire, and a deep expression of discontent was on his face.

But his countenance lighted up at sight of his visitor, and he leaped to his feet and drew a second armchair before the hearth.
"You're a brick, March! I was just wishing you roomed near enough so that I could ask you to come over and talk a bit.