She couldn't restrain a short laugh at the ingenuousness of the remark and its tone.
"There are ways and ways of wronging girls, Jerry," she said slowly. I couldn't see her face, of course, but I knew that her eyes must have been searching him sidelong under their lashes with peculiar avidity. "Of course, I don't say that there was anything wrong, but you'll admit that Una's hunting you out the way she did was most imprudent."
"No, I don't admit it," said Jerry. "If Una was imprudent, so are you, here, today."
"Jerry!" The girl started up, one of her tall French heels within reach of my fingers. If her heel had been her vulnerable spot I must have struck it at once, like a viper.
Jerry apparently stood his ground, for the image of Una must have still been fresh in his memory.
"What is the difference, Marcia?" he asked calmly. "Will you tell me? Do you think I could hurt you?"
She sank upon the rock again, her tone almost too plaintive.
"You're hurting me now, Jerry—terribly."
"I can't see—"
"That you can't see any difference, between my being here—and Una's."