"But, Harry, really I'm going to be good this time," pleaded Pauline.
They were emerging from the gate of the Marvin mansion to the avenue, and as Harry turned to Pauline with a skeptical reply on his lips, the approach of a young man of military bearing stopped him.
"By Jove, isn't that—who the deuce is it? Why, Benny Summers!"
The young man was hurrying by without recognition, when Harry called sharply: "Hello, Ben!"
"Harry—Harry Marvin! By the coin of Croesus, is it really you?"
"No," said Harry, grasping his hand, "not the 'you' you used to know. I've been driven into premature old age by caring for a militant sister. Polly, this is Ensign Summers of the navy. Please promise me that you won't get him into danger, because he used to be a friend of mine. He has never done anything more dangerous than run a submarine and shoot torpedoes out of it in a field of mines."
"A submarine? Torpedoes?" cried Pauline. "Isn't that beautiful."
"But, Benny, how are you? What have you been doing? I haven't seen you in a thousand years."
"I'm still at it. And I've got it, Harry. I give you my word, I have."
"Got what?"