"This lifeboat—it was just an idea, my boy, just an idea," he said.
"Yes," said Denry, "but I thought of it."
"The question is," said the Councillor, "can you think of any more ideas as good?"
"Well," said Denry, "can you?"
With reluctance they left the luxury of the private dining-room, and Denry surreptitiously paid the bill with a pile of sovereigns, and Councillor Rhys-Jones parted from them with lively grief. The other five walked in a row along the Parade in the moonlight. And when they arrived in front of Craig-y-don, and the Cotterills were entering, Ruth, who loitered behind, said to Denry in a liquid voice:
"I don't feel a bit like going to sleep. I suppose you wouldn't care for a stroll?"
"Well———"
"I daresay you're very tired," she said.
"No," he replied, "it's this moonlight I'm afraid of."
And their eyes met under the door-lamp, and Ruth wished him pleasant dreams and vanished. It was exceedingly subtle.