"What's funny?"
But Thresk was no longer listening. He was staring across the room towards the front door, as though he heard outside yet another visitor. Glynn turned angrily towards Linda. At once his anger died away. Her face was white as paper, and her eyes full of fear. Her need was real, whatever it might be. Thresk turned sharply back again.
"It's a long journey from London to North Uist," he said pleasantly.
"No doubt," replied Glynn, as he set himself to his dinner. "But I have come from South Uist. However, I am just as hungry as if I had come from London."
He laughed, and Thresk joined in the laugh.
"I am glad of that," he said, "for it's quite a long time since we have seen you."
"Yes, it is," replied Glynn carelessly. "A year, I should think."
"Three years," said Thresk. "For I don't think that you have ever come to see us in London."
"We are so seldom there," interrupted Linda.
"Three months a year, my dear," said Thresk. "But I know very well that a man will take a day's journey in the Outer Island's to see his friends, whereas he wouldn't cross the street in London. And, in any case, we are very glad to see you. By the way," and he reached out his hand carelessly for the salt, "isn't this rather a new departure for you, Glynn? You were always a sociable fellow. A hunting-box in the Midlands, and all the lighted candles in the season. The Outer Islands were hardly in your line." And he turned quickly towards him. "You have brought your guns?"