"Of course, Una, I didn't mean—"
But the rest of her sentence was lost in the sudden disintegration of the party into groups, some of which followed Una to the door. Jerry had regained his senses and strode out after her."
"I'm going with you, Una," I heard him say.
"It isn't necessary. I can find the way. Good-by, everybody. No, thanks, Phil."
But Jerry went on with her and I broke through the sympathetic crowd at the doorway and followed. Like Jerry, I too had been stunned, but unlike Jerry, in the reaction I was finding a secret delight in Una's splendid mastery of the situation. The pair were already far in advance of me, Una hurrying sedately, Jerry, his hands deep in his pockets, striding like a furious young god beside her, earnestly talking. It was not until they heard the sound of my hurrying footsteps that they stopped and turned.
"I can't let you go, Miss Habberton," I said breathlessly, "without letting you know how contrite I am at a slip of the tongue which—"
"It doesn't matter in the least, Mr. Canby. I have nothing to regret." And then, with her crooked little smile, "But you might have omitted the details."
"I—I—" I stammered.
"It was I—I who told—" Jerry blurted out. "I am to blame. Why shouldn't I tell? Was there anything to be ashamed of? For you? For me?"
"No, Jerry. The surest proof of it is that I'm not angry with you—with either of you. But I must be going."