"Yes—of course. It's about a Welsh minister—"
But the lady had turned away discouraged, to the boredom of the man who really wanted to marry her.
But perhaps in that crowded auditorium there may have been some who had understood what Yetta had been talking about.
Later in the evening, when she was standing with Longman on the deserted stage, waiting for Mabel, who—to use Eleanor's expression—was "sweeping up," he asked her what she was doing the next day.
"I want you to have dinner with me," he said. "Mabel and Isadore Braun are coming. And if it isn't asking too much, I wish you could give me some of the afternoon before they come. I'd like to talk over a lot of things with you. You know I'm sailing the day after to-morrow. It's my last chance to get really acquainted with you."
"Sure. I'd like to come," Yetta replied. "But where are you going?"
She listened in amazement to his plans. She had thought he was going to marry Mabel. When he had left them at the door of the flat, Yetta asked her with naïve directness if she wasn't engaged to Longman.
"No," Mabel laughed. "Where did you get that idea?"
"Why, all the girls think you are."