“The 16th,” Darrin corrected his chum.
“Due here in eleven days?” cried Dalzell, sharing his comrade’s pleasure in the thought. “My, Dave, you’re a very lucky young man!”
“It seems ages since I said good-bye to Belle,” Dave went on musingly. “Dan, it almost seems as if I had not seen my wife since she and I were high school sweethearts.”
“I can take my oath that you’ve seen her more recently than that,” laughed Dan. “Yet I know that it must seem a long while between your meetings.”
A Hindu salesman, wearing European clothes, topped by a real Hindu turban, now approached them.
“Something really nice for a lady,” Dave nodded.
“Pardon, excellency,” replied the Hindu, with a low bow. “Is the lady—ah—young?”
“Yes,” assented Ensign Darrin.
“May I—ah—inquire whether the young lady be—ah—wife, sweetheart, or sister?” suggested the Hindu, with a second bow that was lower than the first.
“Why do you need to know that?” demanded Dave, frowning slightly. “She’s the finest girl on earth. Isn’t that enough for you to know?”