"Oh, fair." Barry paused in the act of pouring out a whisky-and-soda. "That's to say, I'm still with old Joliffe, and got a rise of screw last quarter."
"Did you! Well, wait till we get the review going, and see if I don't tempt you away from that dictatorial old boss of yours!"
"Oh, I'll come to you all right," said Barry gaily. "But in the meantime I'd better hang on in the House of Rimmon, hadn't I? You see ..." He broke off, the colour mounting to his face.
"Of course. You're thinking of Olive. Quite right, too. How is she, Barry? Well?"
"A 1." Barry fell to on his supper with renewed zest. "Longing to see you, old chap. By the way"—he slid rather dexterously away from the subject—"you promised her a skin or something, didn't you? Have any luck?"
"Luck! Rather! I bagged one tiger who was really magnificent—he'll make a grand hearthrug for you and Olive. He was a splendid brute and I was lucky to get him. Of course, I've had luck all the way through. By gad, Barry, there's nothing like big-game shooting to make one fit! You know what I was like when I set out—and look at me now!"
Thus invited, Barry looked; and he was bound to admit that his friend was right.
Eighteen months previous to this wet night of January, Owen Rose had been so severely injured in a motor-accident that his life had been despaired of; and although he had eventually recovered, he had been left so unlike himself that a return to the normal round was impossible.
There was only one prescription, his doctors agreed, and that was the agreeable, if expensive, one of travel. Only by gaining complete change of scene, complete change, also, of life and routine, could he hope to recapture his old splendid vitality and abundant health; and since luckily Owen was by no means a poor man, the prescription was not so hard to carry out as might have been the case with another patient.
True, this break in his life interfered with several cherished projects. In the first—and most important—place, his marriage must be delayed; and although Miss Vivian Rees was only twenty, and might be considered fully young to be a bride, the delay, to the ardent lover, was vexatious, at the least.