“Didn’t you catch a single one?”
“No. Did you?”
“Yes, I have a dozen perch tied to my boat, and one of them is fourteen inches long.”
“Fourteen? I’m afraid you haven’t much sense of distance.”
She picked up a shingle nail and gravely marked off a space on the green wall. He as gravely drew a little centimeter stick from his pocket, measured, and reckoned into inches. She had marked off fourteen less an eighth.
“You leave me no choice. I fear you told me a whopper.”
She stamped her foot. “In two minutes I could take that fish off the string and hold him up here against the wall. But I wouldn’t. I’d be ashamed to inconvenience him just to please a man who questioned my word.”
“I don’t really question it, darlin’.”
“What was it you called me?”
“I called you darlin’. I used to call them all that, but the war rather knocked it out of me. With your permission I’d like to begin again.”