But will you promise me that you will tell me whenever you do play ?" "That I'll promise you!" exclaimed Condy; "and I'll keep that, too." "And now, let's hear the story--or what you've done of it." They drew up to the dining-room table with its cover of blue denim edged with white cord, and Condy unrolled his manuscript and read through what he had written.

She approved, and, as he had foreseen, "caught on" to every one of his points.

He was almost ready to burst into cheers when she said: "Any one reading that would almost believe you had been a diver yourself, or at least had lived with divers.

Those little details count, don't they?
Condy, I've an idea.

See what you think of it.
Instead of having the story end with his leaving her down there and going away, do it this way.