"You silly young duffer!" he said. "What have you been doing with your pocket money, eh? Been buying too many sweeties?"
The other two men roared, but the boy's features never relaxed.
"I tell you I haven't got so much with me," he mumbled. "I'll bring it to-morrow, I promise."
Webb rose from his chair, stretching himself languidly.
"All right," he agreed. "To-morrow will do. By Jove, what a gorgeous night it is!" He leaned over the balustrade, lifting his aristocratic face to the sky. "Saunders, you don't want to go to bed, you old cormorant. Come on with me, and we'll spend the night hours worthily."
"I'm game!" Saunders rejoined. "That is, if it's anything decent. I'm not going to do any more tar-worshipping, that's certain."
"Don't want you to. I'm going to dress up and have a run around the Bazaar, and if you want a little excitement, you had better do likewise. You see things you don't see in the daytime, I can tell you, and some of the women aren't bad. Come on! We can run round to my diggings and change. Are you coming, Phipps and Geoffries?"
The weedy young man addressed as Phipps rose with alacrity.
"Anything for a change," he said. "Wake up, Innocence!" He brought his hand down with a friendly thump on Geoffries' shoulder, but the boy shook his head.
"No," he said, in the same rough, monotonous voice. "I'm done for to-night. You fellows get on without me."