Her eyes were averted. “The time has passed swiftly,” he said.
Mrs. Major breathed: “For me it has flown on—on—” She searched wildly for a metaphor. “On wings,” she concluded.
Again there was a pause, and again Mrs. Major felt that for this passage to have fullest effect the word lay with Mr. Marrapit. But Mr. Marrapit, himself considerably perturbed, did not speak. The moments sped. Fearful lest they should distance beyond recovery the sentiments she felt she had aroused, Mrs. Major hastened to check them.
She said musingly: “I wonder if they are right?”—sighed as though doubtful.
“To whom do you refer?”
“Why, the people who say that time flies when it is spent in pleasant company.”
“They are correct,” Mr. Marrapit affirmed.
“Oh, I do not doubt it for my part, Mr. Marrapit. I never knew what happiness was until I come here—came here. But if—” The masterly woman paused.
“Continue” Mr. Marrapit commanded.
The hard word was softly spoken. Mrs. Major's heart gave two little thumps; her plan clear before her, pushed ahead. “But if to you also, Mr. Marrapit, the time has seemed to fly, then—then Mr. Marrapit, my company has—has been agreeable to you?”