y been making a fool of
YOU. You haven't got any shame." Lena's eyes were on the photograph
again and her jealousy over-balanced fear. She laughed tauntingly.

"Of course you're trying to brazen it out. Give me that picture! He's
my husband!"

Just then Ganser appeared in the doorway--he did not trust his daughter
and had followed her when he thought she was staying too long. At
sight of him she began to weep again. "She won't believe me, pa," she
said. "Look at her standing there hugging his picture."

Ganser scowled at his daughter and addressed himself to Hilda, "It's
true, Miss," he said. "The man is a scoundrel. I sent my daughter to
warn you."

Hilda looked at him haughtily. "I don't know you," she said, "and I do
know him. I don't know why you've come here to slander him. But I do
know that I'd trust him against the whole world." She glanced from
father to daughter. "You haven't done him any harm and you might as
well go."

Peter eyed her in disgust. "You're as big a fool as my Lena," he said.
"Come on, Lena."

As Lena was leaving the room, she gave Hilda a malignant glance. "He's
MY husband," she said spitefully, "and you're--well, I wouldn't want to
say what you are."

"Move!" shouted Ganser, pushing her out of the room. His parting shot
at Hilda was: "Ask him."

Hilda, still holding the photograph, stared at the doorway through
which they had disappeared. "You lie!" she repeated, as if they were
still there. Then again, a little catch in her voice: "You lie!" And
after a longer interval, a third time, with a sob in her throat: "You
lie! I know you lie!" She sat at the table and held the photograph
before her. She kissed it passionately, gazed long at it, seeing in
those bold handsome features all that her heart's love believed of him.

Suddenly she started up, went rapidly down the side hall and out into
the street. Battling with her doubts, denouncing herself as disloyal
to him, she hurried up the Avenue and across the Square and on until
she came to his lodgings. When she asked for him the maid opened the
parlor door and called through the crack: "Mr. Feuerstein, a lady wants
to see you."

As the maid disappeared down the basement stairs, Mr. Feuerstein
appeared. At sight of her he started back. "Hilda!" he exclaimed
theatrically, and frowned.

"Don't be angry with me," she said humbly. "I wouldn't have come,
only--"

"You must go at once!" His tone was abru