"Oh, Bill," said Bundle.
There is no need to describe in detail the conversation of the next ten minutes. It consisted mostly of repetitions.
"And do you really love me," said Bill, incredulously, for the twentieth time as he at last released her.
"Yes—yes—yes. Now do let's be sensible. I've got a racking head still, and I've been nearly squeezed to death by you. I want to get the hang of things. Where are we and what's happened?"
For the first time, Bundle began to take stock of her surroundings. They were in the secret room, she noted, and the baize door was closed and presumably locked. They were prisoners, then!
Bundle's eyes came back to Bill. Quite oblivious of her question he was watching her with adoring eyes.
"Bill, darling," said Bundle, "pull yourself together. We've got to get out of here."
"Eh?" said Bill. "What? Oh, yes. That'll be all right. No difficulty about that."
"It's being in love makes you feel like that," said Bundle. "I feel rather the same myself. As though everything's easy and possible."
"So it is," said Bill. "Now that I know you care for me—"