"Jump in—join us."
The two had never been of his intimates, belonging to a New York crowd, who were spoken of for Keys. He hesitated, but as he was free he considered:
"What's the game?"
"We're out for a spin towards the shore. Tommy Bain and Stone were going but had to drop out. Come along. We might get a shore supper, and toddle back by moonlight."
"I've got to be here by seven," said Dink doubtfully.
"Oh, well, come on; we'll make it just a drive."
"Fine."
He sprang into the front seat, and they started off in the young, tingling air. Troutman, at the reins, was decidedly unfamiliar with their uses, and, at a fervent plea from Schley, Stover assumed control. Since freshman year the three had been seldom thrown together. He remembered Troutman then as a rather overgrown puppy type, and Schley as a nuisance and a hanger-on. He scanned them now, pleasantly surprised at their transformation. They had come into a clean-cut type, affable, alert, and if there was small mark of character, there was an abundance of good-humor, liveliness, and sociability.
"Well, Dink, old chap," said Troutman, as he passed along quieter ways, "the fatal day approaches."