She went out into the shop. While he was still trying to lay
hold of an end of the spinning tangle of his thoughts and draw it
forth in the hope that all would follow, she returned, fright in
her eyes. She clasped her hands nervously and her cheeks
blanched. ``Mr. Feuerstein!'' she exclaimed. ``And he's coming
here! What SHALL I do?''

``What is the matter?'' he asked.

She turned upon him angrily--he was the convenient vent for her
nervousness. ``It's all your fault!'' she exclaimed. ``They
want to force me to marry you. And I dare not bring here the man
I love.''

``My fault?'' he muttered, dazed. ``I'm not to blame.''

``Stupid! You're always in the way--no wonder I HATE you!'' She
was clasping and unclasping her hands, trying to think, not
conscious of what she was saying.

``Hate me?'' he repeated mechanically. ``Oh, no--surely not that.
No, you can't--''

``Be still! Let me think. Ach! Gott im Himmel! He's in the
hall!'' She sank wretchedly into a chair. ``Can you do nothing
but gape and mutter?'' In her desperation her tone was
appealing.

``He can say he came with me,'' said Otto. ``I'll stand for