Bertha twisted her neck around. I said, “Yes, I knew her watch was a little slow. You see, mine is exactly right. I set it at the airport this morning.”
I took out my watch and showed him. It was the same as his.
He started to say something, then changed his mind, and looked back out of the window.
They started the motors, and the engines clicked the props around at idling speed. A late passenger came bustling out to climb aboard the plane. He acted as though he’d made it by the skin of his eyeteeth. He settled down in a seat and waited for the plane to start. When it didn’t take right off, he seemed surprised.
Bertha Cool looked at her watch and then turned around to glare at me. Two minutes and fifteen seconds later, the plane started taxiing down the field.
After we got up off the ground, and the roar of the motors settled into a low, monotonous hum conducive to sleep, Bertha started to doze. The man who was beside me leaned across so that his lips were close to my ear and said, “You didn’t misunderstand about the time, did you?”
“No.”
He laughed. “You’ll pardon me, but I’m interested in psychology.”
“It’s an interesting subject.”
“You’ve been at the Springs Sanitarium?”