ng in the situation. Channing Lloyd had paused in the act of
pouring out another glass of wine and stood blinking heavily. The only
sound was a nervous titter from the Da Costa girl. Una looked around
from face to face as though seeking those of her friends and then
spoke fearlessly.

"You may not know what this hypothetical question means or its
answer?" she said with a smile. "I will tell you. I was that girl.
Jerry Benham, the man. The place was here. I am accustomed to going
where and with whom I please." She tossed her small head proudly,
"Those who can see evil where evil doesn't exist are welcome to their
opinions. As for my friends--"

Here a chorus of protest went up, from the treble of the Da Costa girl
to Laidlaw's deep bass.

"Una--you silly child--of course no one thinks--"

"As for my friends," she repeated, her voice slightly raised, "I will
choose them by this token."

I had not misjudged her. Her scorn of Marcia was ineffable, and I
think the girl at the tea-urn had a sense of being at a disadvantage,
for the idea of Una's frank admission had never entered Marcia's
pretty intriguing head. She was hoist with her own petard and covered
her confusion by a light laugh which was most unconvincing.

"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 o