the clothes he could wear
without danger of attracting his landlady's attention, filled his
pockets and the crown of his hat with small articles, and fled to
Hoboken.

IX

AN IDYL OF PLAIN PEOPLE

Hilda had not spent her nineteen years in the glare of the Spartan
publicity in which the masses live without establishing a character.
Just as she knew all the good points and bad in all the people of that
community, so they knew all hers, and therefore knew what it was
possible for her to do and what impossible. And if a baseless lie is
swift of foot where everybody minutely scrutinizes everybody else, it
is also scant of breath. Sophie's scandal soon dwindled to a whisper
and expired, and the kindlier and probable explanation of Hilda's wan
face and downcast eyes was generally accepted.

Her code of morals and her method of dealing with moral questions were
those of all the people about her--strict, severe, primitive.
Feuerstein was a cheat, a traitor. She cast him out of her heart--cast
him out at once and utterly and for ever. She could think of him only
with shame. And it seemed to her that she was herself no longer
pure--she had touched pitch; how could she be undefiled?

She accepted these conclusions and went about her work, too busy to
indulge in hysteria of remorse, repining, self-examination.

She avoided Otto, taking care not to be left alone with him when he
called on Sundays, and putting Sophie between him and her when he came
up to them in the Square. But Otto was awaiting his chance, and when
it came, plunged boldly into his heart-subject and floundered bravely
about. "I don't like to see you so sad, Hilda. Isn't there any chance
for me? Can't things be as they used to be?"

Hilda shook her head sadly. "I'm never going to marry," she said.
"You must find some one else."

"It's you or nobody. I said that when we were in school together
and--I'll stick to it." His eyes confirmed his words.

"You mustn't, Otto. You make me feel as if I were spoiling your life.
And if you knew, you wouldn't want to marry me."

"I don't care. I always have, and I always will."

"I suppose I ought to tell you," she said, half to herself. She turned
to him suddenly, and, with flushed cheeks and eyes that shifted, burst
out: "Otto, he was a married man!"

"But you didn't know."

"It doesn't change the way I feel. You might--any man might--throw it
up to me. And sooner or later, everybody'll know.