biliously at him. "Never one so lovely. Or so chaste," he added with a sigh.
"It would be a pity if the Dalmatian Navy never had any sea service," he said to her as she turned from dispatching the last leavetaker. "I have the punt all ready."
Now in the ancient flat-bottomed boat, tilting heavily aft, they idled gently. Low under those licheny walls the water was dark, scribbled here and there with silver where the moon leaked through the chestnut trees. The Colonel paddled softly with an oar, then with the optimism of a true Dalmatian navigator entrusted his vessel to destiny. The small melody of the Moating Song sighed from his mouth-organ. A gradual diminution of brightness in the windows above them showed that candles were being puffed out one by one. In Illyria the gayety of evening is not blackened at one flick, by snapping a switch. Windows extinguish like stars, paling softly.
"It would be preposterous," he said, "not to pay such a night the tribute of an embrace."
