Polly looked at him trustfully.

“Are you sure, Mr.——­”

“Savanrola,” the lying wretch supplied without turning a hair.

“Are you sure, Mr. Savanrola, that he has left the station?”

“Saw him check out with my own eyes,” he said calmly.

I moved nearer, my hands twitching.

“Now with an honest old seafaring man like myself,” he continued, in a confidential voice, “it’s different.  Why, if I should wear all the hash marks I rate I’d look like a zebra.  So I just don’t wear any.  You know how it is.  But when I like a girl I stick to her.  Now from the very first moment I laid eyes on you—­”

Human endurance could stand no more.  I threw myself between them.

“Why, here’s Oswald hisself,” exclaimed the reporter with masterfully feigned surprise.  “However did you get back so soon?”

“I have never been away anywhere to get back from, and you know it,” I replied coldly.

“Strange!” he said, “I could have sworn that I saw you checking out.  Can I get you some ice cream?” he added smoothly.

“What on?” I replied bitterly, knowing him always to be broke.

“Your mother must have—­”

“Come,” said I to Polly, “leave this degraded creature to ply his pernicious trade alone.  I have some very important words to say to you.”

“Good-by, Mr. Savanrola,” said Polly.

“Until we meet again,” answered the reporter, with the utmost confidence.

Aug. 12th. It’s all arranged.  Those words I had to say to Polly were not spoken in vain.  She has promised to be my permanent sweetie.  Of course, I have had a number of transit sweeties in the past, but now I’m going to settle down to one steady, day in and day out sweetie.  I told Tim, the barkeep, about it last night and all he said was: 

“What about all those parties we’d planned to have after we were paid off?”

This sort of set me back for the moment.  The spell of Polly’s eyes had made me forget all about Tim.

“Well, Tim,” I replied, “I’ll have to think about that.  Come on over to the canteen and I’ll feed you some of those honest, upstanding sandwiches they have over there.”

“Say,” says Tim, the carnal beast, forgetting everything at the prospect of food, “I feel as if I could cover a flock of them without trying.”

So together Tim and I had a bachelor’s dinner over the sandwiches, which were worthy of that auspicious occasion.

Aug. 17th. We were standing on a street corner of a neighboring town.  The party consisted of Tim the barkeep, the “Spider,” an individual who modestly acknowledged credit for having brought relief to several over-crowded safes in the good old civilian days; Tony, who delivered ice in my district also in those aforementioned days, and myself.  These gentlemen for some time had been allowing me to exist in peace, and I had been showing my gratitude