Part 54 (1/2)
”But I want to be just,” he went on clearly. ”And I want you to be just. I surely couldn't harm Una any more than I could you.”
”Oh, Jerry; I'm sure you kissed her.”
”No. Why should I?”
”Because, I thought she might have asked you to.”
”She didn't. I suppose it hadn't occurred to her. I'm not much at kissing, Marcia. It's rather meaningless if you don't love a person, isn't it? Kissing ought to be a kind of sacrament. It's a symbol. It must mean something. At least that's the way it seems to me. The girl one loves, Marcia, you--”
He was very close to her now and I think his arms encircled her, for I heard her whisper ”Kiss me, Jerry! Kiss me!”
I must have deserved this punishment. Aside from the unhappy nature of my feelings, I was suffering severe bodily discomfort from some small object, a stone, I think, pressed against my ribs. I moved slightly and there was a resounding crackle of broken twigs. The silken foot beside me started suddenly.
”What was that?” whispered the girl.
”Oh,” said Jerry, ”merely a squirrel or--or a chipmunk.” And then more convincingly, ”Yes, I think it was a chipmunk.”
I held my breath in an agony of apprehension, expecting each second to be hauled out of my retreat by Jerry's muscular hand on my collar, and it was therefore with a feeling of manifest relief that I heard their conversation resumed.
”I'm so glad you think a kiss is a sacrament,” she murmured. ”It should be--shouldn't it?--a pledge,” and then, ”But that was _such_ a light one, Jerry--”
He kissed her again. There was a long silence--long. She had won.
”Oh, Jerry,” she sighed at last, ”it is _so_ sweet. You have never kissed me like that before. Why, what is the matter?”
Jerry, it seemed, had risen suddenly. ”I--I mustn't, Marcia. I mustn't. It is sweet--but--but terrible. I can't tell you--”
”Terrible, Jerry?”
”Yes, I can't explain. It's a kind of profanation--your sanct.i.ty. I don't know. It makes me deliriously happy and--horribly miserable.”
”But I am yours, Jerry, yours, do you understand? And if I like you to kiss me--”
”I mustn't, Marcia, not here.”
He was very much disturbed. ”Marcia!” he said in a suppressed tone as he came quickly to her again. ”Was _that_ what you meant--was _that_ why you asked me if I'd kissed Una?”
”I merely wanted--”
”I didn't,” he broke in impetuously. ”No, no, I didn't. Why, Marcia, it wouldn't have been possible--we were merely friends. Don't think I've ever kissed Una, and don't ever believe she would let me. She wouldn't. She's not in love with me. She wouldn't let me, if I wanted to.”
”And you don't want to?”
”No, no. I never think about her in that way. I can't. She's different from you. You allure me. It's subtle. I can't explain. I want to take you in my arms and yet I don't dare, for fear that I may crush you. I might, Marcia. I'm afraid. Just now, the thought of my strength frightened me. Don't let me kiss you like that again, Marcia.”
”I'm not afraid,” I heard her whisper. ”Kiss me again, Jerry.”
But he didn't. Apparently he still stood before her at a distance, fearsome of he knew not what.
”Jerry!” she murmured again, in a little tone of petulance.