"I don't see why you shouldn't do both," he said, making room for her in the chair beside him. But seeing a suspicious glitter in her eyes, he sprang up. "Why, B.! You're crying! What's the matter?"
She put her hands on his shoulders and looked searchingly in his face.
"Honest? Cross your heart to die? Weren't you thinking about Yetta?"
"You little idiot," he said, with the glow which comes to a man who is being indirectly flattered. "Been jealous, have you?"
He picked her up in his arms.
"Let's go out on the porch. I'll tell you everything she said to me—and then we'll look up at the moon."
* * * * *
"Well," Yetta said, settling herself in the compartment of the train, as the lights of Oxford slipped past the windows, "I'm glad we visited them."
Isadore moved uneasily.
"It wasn't unpleasant?" he asked in Yiddish—so that the other passengers might not understand. "I don't feel as if I showed up very well in comparison to Walter."