They had been two and a half days now in pretty close propinquity, and had got to know each other well despite Uncle Simon, or rather, perhaps, because of him. They discussed him freely and without reserve, and they were discussing him now, as the following extraordinary conversation will show.
"He's good, as you say," said Bobby, "but he's more trouble to me than a child."
Said Cerise: "Shall I tell you a little secret?"
"Yes."
"You will promise me surely, most surely, you will never tell my little secret?"
"I swear."
"He is in loff with me—I thought it was maman, but it is me." A ripple of laughter that caught the echo of the bowling-alley followed this confession.
"Last night he said to me before dinner, 'Cerise, I loff you.'"
"And what did you say?"