Considering that he had returned to Llandudno in the full intention of putting his foot down, of clearly conveying to Ruth that his conception of finance differed from hers, the second sojourn had commenced badly. Still, he had promised to marry her, and he must marry her. Better a lifetime of misery and insolvency than a failure to behave as a gentleman should. Of course, if she chose to break it off... But he must be minutely careful to do nothing which might lead to a breach. Such was Denry’s code. The walk home at midnight, amid the reverberations of the falling tempest, was marked by a slight pettishness on the part of Ruth, and by Denry’s polite taciturnity. V Yet the next morning, as the three companions sat together under the striped awning of the buffet on the pier, nobody could have divined, by looking at them, that one of them at any rate was the most uncomfortable young man in all Llandudno. The sun was hotly shining on their bright attire and on the still turbulent waves. Ruth, thirsty after a breakfast of herrings and bacon, was sucking iced lemonade up a straw. Nellie was eating chocolate, undistributed remains of the night’s benevolence. Denry was yawning, not in the least because the proceedings failed to excite his keen interest, but because he had been a journalist till three A.M. and had risen at six in order to despatch a communication to the editor of the _Staffordshire Signal_ by train. The girls were very playful. Nellie dropped a piece of chocolate into Ruth’s glass, and Ruth fished it out, and bit at it. "What a jolly taste!" she exclaimed. And then Nellie bit at it. "Oh! It’s just lovely!" said Nellie softly. "Here, dear!" said Ruth. "Try it." And Denry had to try it, and to pronounce it a delicious novelty (which indeed it was) and generally to brighten himself up. And all the time he was murmuring in his heart, "This can’t go on." Nevertheless he was obliged to admit that it was he who had invited Ruth to pass the rest of her earthly life with him, and not _vice versa_. "Well, shall we go on somewhere else?" Ruth suggested. And he paid yet again. He paid and smiled, he who had meant to be the masterful male, he who deemed himself always equal to a crisis. But in this crisis he was helpless. They set off down the pier, brilliant in the brilliant crowd. Everybody was talking of wrecks and lifeboats. The new lifeboat had done nothing, having been forestalled by the Prestatyn boat; but Llandudno was apparently very proud of its brave old worn-out lifeboat which had brought ashore the entire crew of the _Hjalmar_, without casualty, in a terrific hurricane. "Run along, child," said Ruth to Nellie, "while uncle and auntie talk to each other for a minute."