Feuerstein? He's an actor-- at the German Theater. I don't
think he's much of an actor--he's one of the kind that do all
their acting off the stage.''

Heilig laughed unnaturally. He did not feel like laughing, but
wished to show his gratitude to Sophie for this shrewd blow at
his enemy. ``He's rigged out like a lunatic, isn't he?'' Otto
was thinking of the long hair, the low-rolling shirt collar and
the velvet collar on his coat,--light gray, to match his hat and
suit.

``I don't see what Hilda finds in him,'' continued Sophie. ``It
makes me laugh to look at him; and when he talks I can hardly
keep from screaming in his face. But Hilda's crazy over him, as
you see. He tells all sorts of romances about himself, and she
believes every word. I think she'll marry him--you know, her
father lets her do as she pleases. Isn't it funny that a
sensible girl like Hilda can be so foolish?''

Heilig did not answer this, nor did he heed the talk on love and
marriage which the over-eager Sophie proceeded to give. And it
was talk worth listening to, as it presented love and marriage in
the interesting, romantic-sensible Avenue A light. Otto was
staring gloomily at the shadow of the tree. He would have been
gloomier could he have witnessed the scene to which the unmoral
old elm was lending its impartial shade.

Mr. Feuerstein was holding Hilda's hand while he looked soulfully
down into her eyes. She was returning his gaze, her eyes
expressing all the Schwarmerei of which their dark depths were