she said.

They went down stairs and waited, Lena silent, Feuerstein pacing
the room and rehearsing, now aloud, now to himself, the scene he
would enact with his father-in-law. Peter was in a frightful
humor that evening. His only boy, who spent his mornings in
sleep, his afternoons in speeding horses and his evenings in
carousal, had come down upon him for ten thousand dollars to
settle a gambling debt. Peter was willing that his son should be
a gentleman and should conduct himself like one. But he had
worked too hard for his money not to wince as a plain man at what
he endured and even courted as a seeker after position for the
house of Ganser. He had hoped to be free to vent his ill-humor
at home. He was therefore irritated by the discovery that an
outsider was there to check him. As he came in he gave
Feuerstein a look which said plainly:

``And who are you, and how long are you going to intrude
yourself?''

But Feuerstein, absorbed in the role he had so carefully thought
out, did not note his unconscious father-in-law's face. He
extended both his hands and advanced grandly upon fat, round
Peter. ``My father!'' he exclaimed in his classic German.
``Forgive my unseemly haste in plucking without your permission
the beautiful flower I found within reach.''

Peter stepped back and gave a hoarse grunt of astonishment. His
red face became redder as he glared, first at Feuerstein, then at
Lena. ``What lunatic is this you've got here, daughter?'' he