"Una—Una—Smith," the girl was repeating. "This is really beginning to be fearfully interesting. Una," she turned quickly, her eyes widening. In the bright sunlight they seemed very light in color, a dark gray shot with little flecks of yellow. "Of course," she exclaimed. And then, "When was this—er—intrusion, Jerry? Last July?"
"I think so."
It was Jerry's turn to be surprised.
"She was brown-haired, smallish, with blue eyes? Quite pretty?"
Jerry nodded.
"Wore leather gaiters and carried a butterfly net?"
"You know her, Marcia?" he broke in.
"Of course. Jerry, I'm really surprised—also a trifle disillusioned—"
They moved off down the path toward the lake, Jerry talking earnestly. I watched them for a moment in silence, wondering what crisis I had precipitated in Jerry's affairs.
Beside me I heard the deep voice of Miss Gore.