"Quite right," said Hannah simply.
"Then—what—how?" he stammered.
"She was his intended wife," explained Hannah as if she were telling the most natural thing in the world. "Before he married me, you know."
"I—I beg your pardon if I seemed to doubt you. I really thought you were joking."
"Why, what made you think so?"
"Well," he blurted out. "He didn't mention he was married, and seeing him dancing with her the whole time—"
"I suppose he thinks he owes her some attention," said Hannah indifferently. "By way of compensation probably. I shouldn't be at all surprised if he takes her down to supper instead of me."
"There he is, struggling towards the buffet. Yes, he has her on his arm."
"You speak as if she were his phylacteries," said Hannah, smiling. "It would be a pity to disturb them. So, if you like, you can have me on your arm, as you put it."
The young man's face lit up with pleasure, the keener that it was unexpected.