Just talking to him on the telephone, so I rather guessed you were alone, that's why I came up.

I want to talk to you a little bit, Harwood.

It must be nearly closing time, so suppose you lock the door.

You see," he continued, idling about the room, "Mort's in the newspapers a good deal, and not being any such terrible sinner as he is I don't care to have his labels tacked on me too much.
Not that Mort isn't one of my best friends, you know; but a family man like me has got to be careful of his reputation." Harwood opened his drawer and took out a box of cigars.

Thatcher accepted one and lighted it deliberately, commenting on the office as he did so.