The princess had no desire that Erebus, or any one else for that matter, should learn; but discretion and kisses have no natural affinity; and, without their knowing it, Wiggins became aware of the practise.
He had always observed that the Twins had no secrets from each other; and he never dreamed that he was letting an uncommonly awkward cat out of a bag when during a lull in the strenuous life, he said to Erebus: "I suppose the Terror's in love with the princess, kissing her like that.

I think it's awfully silly." And he spurned the earth.
Erebus grabbed his arm and cried fiercely: "He never does!" Wiggins looked at her in some surprise; her face was one dusky flush; and her eyes were flashing.

He had seen her angry often enough, but never so angry as this; and he saw plainly that he had committed a grievous indiscretion.
"Perhaps she kissed him," he said quickly.
"He'd never let her!" cried Erebus fiercely.
"Perhaps they didn't," said Wiggins readily.
"You know they did!" cried Erebus yet more fiercely.
"I may have made a mistake.

It's quite easy to make a mistake about that kind of thing," said Wiggins.
Erebus would not have it, and very fiercely she dragged piecemeal from his reluctant lips the story of the surprised idyl.

He had seen the princess with an arm round the Terror's neck, and they had kissed.
With clenched fists and blazing eyes Erebus, taking the line of the least resistance, sought the princess.