Both were in a lonely glen.
Kenny unwillingly conceded the existence of somebody with a claim upon the boat stronger than his own.
"But," he went on with an air of inspiration, "somebody is in the world or he wouldn't be somebody; and the world's my friend.

Therefore by moon-mad deduction somebody's my friend and I may take his boat." He released the painter, smiling up into Joan's face.
"Beside," he added, "he's either a young dub who doesn't know the moon is shining or an old cynic who doesn't care." "Kenny!" said Joan, somewhat shocked by his inconsequent habits of acquirement.

"I'm quite sure we shouldn't." "Everything in the world you want to do," reminded Kenny, "you shouldn't.

And everything in the world you shouldn't, you want to do!" He flung his cigarette at a frog.
"The only thing to smoke on such a lake," he said, "is a fairy's pipe.
Come, jewel machree, happiness is the aim of life.

And my happiness for the moment, is to glide forth upon the bosom of that lake with you.
Look, you can even see the gleam of silver shoes where the fairies dance upon the ripples." He was indeed moon-mad in mood and irresistible.