"I beg pardon for intruding," I said dryly, "but the fact is that it's almost if not quite bedtime."
They got to their feet in some haste, Jerry red as a turkey-cock, the girl, I think, a little pale.
"Is it—is it Roger?" stammered Jerry. "I hadn't the slightest notion—" And from his appearance I could readily believe him. "Is it dinner—bedtime? Why, of course, it must be." He shuffled his feet awkwardly and looked from me to the girl. "This is—Una, Roger. We've been talking."
"So I should suppose," I remarked, aware of the cool and rather contemptuous glances that the young lady was sending in my direction. "It's too bad that I interrupted. I hope that Miss—er—"
"Smith," sniffed the girl.
"Quite so. I hope that Miss Smith will forgive me. We are a little unused to visitors and of course—"
"I'm going at once," she said, moving a step or two, but seeing that I stood in the door, hesitated.
"I don't want you to go yet, please," said Jerry, recovering his coolness amazingly. "I want you and Roger to know each other. I've been telling her all about us, Roger. She's awfully interested. She just happened in, you know. It's all been very agreeable."
"I don't doubt it in the least," I remarked. "Of course, you have settled all the affairs of the nations between you."
"Oh, not quite that," laughed Jerry uneasily. "But we did have a talk, didn't we, Una?"