him.''

``Yes--yes!'' she cried. ``That will do! Thank you--thank
you!'' And as the knock came at the door she opened it. She had
intended to be reproachful, but she could not. This splendid,
romantic creature, with his graceful hat and his golden hair and
his velvet collar, was too compelling, too overpowering. Her
adoring love put her at a hopeless disadvantage. ``Oh-- Mr.
Feuerstein,'' she murmured, her color coming and going with the
rise and fall of her bosom.

Mr. Feuerstein majestically removed his hat and turned a look of
haughty inquiry upon Otto. Otto's fists clenched-- he longed to
discuss the situation in the only way which seemed to him to meet
its requirements.

``Hilda,'' said the actor, when he thought there had been a long
enough pause for an imposing entrance, ``I have come to end the
deception--to make you, before the world, as you are before
Almighty God, my affianced bride.''

``You--you mustn't,'' implored Hilda, her fears getting the
better of her awe.

``If my parents learn now--just now, they will--oh, it will be
hopeless!''

``I can not delay, angel of my heart!'' He gave her the look
that is the theatrical convention for love beyond words. ``It
must be settled at once. I must know my fate. I must put