"Oh, Jerry, if you knew how I had longed to hear you say that—if you knew!"
All this while Jerry had been standing beside her in the path while the girl sat on the rock. I could tell this from the sounds of their voices. In spite of her accents of endearment, notes which she played with the deftest touch, I could understand that Master Jerry was still a little upon his dignity.
"I do forgive you," he repeated, "but I don't just know what your insinuations meant, Marcia."
"Insinuations! Oh, Jerry!"
"Well, what were they? You didn't accuse Una of anything, or me. But you meant something—something unpleasant. Una was very much disturbed—"
"Oh, she was?" No self-control could have concealed the tiny note of exultation.
"Yes, disturbed and angry. What did you mean, Marcia?"
There was an effective pause. What grimaces she was making for his benefit I'm sure I can't imagine, but I hope they were worthy of her talents.
"Poor, dear Jerry!" she sighed. "You're so innocent. I sometimes wonder whether you're really as innocent as you seem."
"I'm innocent of wronging Una," he said with some spirit.