Both Pauline and his father cast pitying glances at him.

"Look here, young man," said the elder Marvin, "whoever led you to
believe that you could buy dresses for a girl like Polly at a hundred
dollars? If you contemplate matrimony on any such deluded basis as
that you had better back out now before it's too late. Isn't that so,
Polly?"

"Why, father," protested the youth, "what do I care what her dresses
cost? Polly knows everything I have or ever make is hers, and I can't
think of a more satisfactory way of spending it than on her."

"That's fine, Harry," laughed the father, "you have just the ideal
frame of mind and the proper sentiments for a modern husband. You will
find, too, that women are very reasonable. If a man gives his wife all
he makes, plus the vote, and lets her do just as she pleases--she'll
usually let him live in the same house with her, and even get up early
enough to see him at breakfast once in a while."

"I agree to everything," declared Harry, with the reckless abandon of
youth in love. "But I want to know how soon Polly is going to marry
me."

Pauline, who had said nothing in answer to the preliminary skirmishes,
now recognized the main attack and opened up in reply.

"I told you I would marry Harry some time, but not for a year or two.
You admitted that a writer ought to see life in order to write well.
So there you are. I must have a year or two of adventure. There are a
thousand things I want to do and see before I settle down as Mrs. Harry