It was not Carl's way to ask questions; he promptly showed
her the office and she entered. She had not seen young
Harry Lossing half a dozen times; and, now, her anxious eyes
wandered from one dapper figure at the high desks, to another,
until Lossing advanced to her.

He was a handsome young man, she thought, and he had
kind eyes, but they hardened at her first timid sentence:
"I am Mrs. Lieders, I come about my man ----"

"Will you walk in here, Mrs. Lieders?" said Lossing.
His voice was like the ice on the window-panes.

She followed him into a little room. He shut the door.

Declining the chair that he pushed toward her she stood in the centre
of the room, looking at him with the pleading eyes of a child.

"Mr. Lossing, will you please save my Kurt from killing himself?"

"What do you mean?" Lossing's voice had not thawed.

"It is for you that he will kill himself, Mr. Lossing.
This is the dird time he has done it. It is because he is so
lonesome now, your father is died and he thinks that you forget,
and he has worked so hard for you, but he thinks that you forget.
He was never tell me till yesterday; and then--it was--
it was because I would not let him hang himself ----"