_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.
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