AUBURN – As they sat on a couch at Clover Manor, Edward and Mary Haley smiled, laughed and held hands.

She’s 92. He’s 95. “Nobody lives that long,” he joked.

She has trouble getting around. He has some dementia. Married 72 years, the decades haven’t tarnish their romance. She calls him Eddie. He calls her honey.

They met as kids, growing up in the same Auburn neighborhood.

“She pretended to come over and play dolls with my sister,” he teased.

“He was so nice,” Mary said. “He didn’t give an awful lot of sass.” And he was good looking. “He was a doll,” she said.

They started going together when they were students at Edward Little High School.

He doesn’t remember where they went on their first date. “It must have been heaven,” he said.

They didn’t go far, she said; her strict mother didn’t allow it. She never dated anyone but Eddie. “I always had my eye on him. Always, always, always. I finally got him.”

“I wasn’t too hard to catch,” he said with a grin.

They married Aug. 29, 1936, at St. Michael’s Episcopal Church, and honeymooned on Maranacook Lake. They had one son, Edward Haley Jr. He still calls their son, who is 70, “the boy.”

For many years Edward worked at Seavey’s, which made Needhams candy. During World War II he worked at Twin City Machine, which produced machine parts for the war. Most of her working years she was in the catering business.

As old age started to take hold, they gave up their Auburn home and moved to an apartment near their son and his wife. A year and a half ago she fell, breaking her arm and hip. Things changed.

She went to Clover Manor nursing home to recover, but never got well enough to come home.

Not living with him left her heartbroken. “I’d bring him down for lunch, then take him home for a nap. He’d have supper with her. I’d have to bring him home. Every time she’d cry,” their son said.

He was lonely without her at their apartment. Eventually his own health problems prompted him to move to Clover Manor.

In their assisted-living room, two hospital beds are pushed together, not far from a table and two chairs. Framed family pictures of their son and his wife, their two grandchildren and great-grandchildren are on shelves and walls.

They pass their days playing bingo, singing songs and talking.

Their advice to others for a long, happy marriage is “get along,” she said. “If one wants one thing, don’t say ‘Oh no, I don’t want that.’ Side in with each other so that you can have things together.”

His take: “If we have any arguments, we compromise. We do it her way.” Mary blushed and laughed.

She said she couldn’t ask for a better husband. He always helped without being asked. He’d be sitting in the living room reading the paper. If he heard a click of the dishes coming from the kitchen, “out he’d come to help,” she said. “He’d bring in my clothes if they were out on the line. He helped with anything around the house.”

He said she’s been good to live with. “I can’t think of anything I didn’t like.”

During their marriage, “Dad (has been) sentimental, giving Ma flowery cards,” Edward Jr. said. “He didn’t miss a holiday or anniversary.”

Their son shared a poem, titled “Old folks,” his father wrote to his mother when she turned 40. In it he assured Mary that she was still “full of vigor and romance. … Forty they say is getting late. Why you’re younger than most at 28. But whether you’re 40, or 60, or 88, to me you’ll always be whistle bait.”