"Halloa, Olga, old girl! Where's your boss?"
He was not far off, having been warned of the approach of his friend, and in another moment the two men were shaking hands cordially.
"By Jove, Barry, it's good to see you again!" There was no mistaking the pleasure in the tone. "I thought you'd be looking me up—someone told me you were staying down here."
"Yes—only for three days, worse luck. I'm with the Ansteys—you know Miss Lynn is Mrs. Anstey's niece, and she is there too."
"I see. Well, come in and have a peg." He led the way hospitably through the green door into the bungalow, and a minute later the two were seated cosily in the little living-room, which looked oddly attractive in the lamplight.
Olga, the wolfhound, followed them in as a matter of course, and when her master had mixed drinks for himself and his visitor, and had taken his seat, she lay down beside him, her long nose resting on her paws, while she blinked sleepily in the mellow light.
"Well, Barry, how goes the world? Cheerily, eh?"
"With me? Yes." He took a pull at his glass, "I'm A 1, and so is Olive."
"Work going ahead? I hear the Bridge is making its way."
"Rather!" He spoke enthusiastically. "The next number will be out in a few days, and it's better than ever."