[CHAPTER XXII.]
"THEY TAKE NO NOTE OF TIME."
KATE and Jermyn were so happy in each other's society, now that they had not to pay attention to a lot of mere acquaintances, that they agreed with the hero of Gilbert and Sullivan's "Mikado" that each second was a minute, each minute an hour, each hour a day, and each day a year. Nevertheless, after the illogical manner of lovers, no sooner was the last half of the week under way than they began to complain that each day seemed only an hour long.
"Must you really go at the end of your week?" asked Kate. "Does a week, in military parlance, mean literally a week—no more, no less?"
"Exactly and mathematically a week," sighed Jermyn. "Tis even worse in our case, for the week includes the time I spent in reaching here, the time I will spend in returning, and the day I started, but was taken back by the Admiral."
"Oh!" exclaimed Kate, after a startled look, "that means that you must start back to-morrow!"
"It does indeed. I've gone over it by every applicable rule of arithmetic, but I can find no other solution."
Kate at once became so dismal that she could not talk much, and Jermyn, remembering the ways of his mother and sisters when they had trouble on their minds, suggested that there could be no better time to make his good-bye call upon the Highwoods; he assured himself that a short chat with sympathetic women would enable Kate to bear her trouble more bravely. He got his reward, for Trif chatted so kindly with him that he himself soon felt much better than he had dared hope, so he felt correspondingly grateful, and wished he might do something in return for the good woman to whose interest he owed so much of his fortune in love. Suddenly there came to him a thought which he voiced at once.
"Mrs. Highwood, I shall go back by way of Washington. I'm greatly your debtor; I needn't go into particulars, but wouldn't you like to spend a few hours in Washington? You couldn't have a better guide than I, and—"