“If the premium isn’t paid the policy lapses,” he went on.
“But you’ll pay it?”
“For my wife I will.”
She gave him a quick look and knew that he was not going to be swayed this time by her little cajoleries.
“But, Harry,” she protested, “that’s so—so soon.”
“I have the license in my pocket,” he said; “there’s a church within two blocks, and I saw a light in the pastor’s study as I came by. I guess we’ve waited long enough. Let’s go out for a little stroll.”
It was six months later that Harry again met Dave Murray, but Murray remembered him.
“Did you get the prize with your policy?” asked Murray.
“Sure,” replied Harry.