went up to him, and Otto turned away, unable to bear the sight of that look of love, tenderness and trust.  "You must not—at least, not right away."  She turned to Otto. "Help me, Otto. Explain to him." 

 Heilig tried to put courtesy in his voice as he said to Mr. Feuerstein: "Miss Brauner is right. You'll only wreck her—her happiness. We're plain people down here and don't understand these fine, grand ways. You must pass as my friend whom I brought here—but I make one condition."  He drew a long breath and looked at Hilda. For the first time she heard him, the real Otto Heilig, speak.  "Hilda," he went on, "I don't want to hurt you—I'd do anything for you, except hurt you. And I can't stand for this fel—for Mr. Feuerstein, unless you'll promise me you won't marry him, no matter what he may say, until your father has had a chance to find out who and what he is." 

 Mr. Feuerstein drew himself up grandly.  "Who is this person, Miss Brauner?" he demanded with haughty coldness. 

 "He don't know any better," she replied hurriedly.  "He's an old friend. Trust me, Mr. Feuer—Carl! Everything depends on it." 

 "I can not tolerate this coarse hand between me and the woman I love. No more deception! Carl Feuerstein"—how he did roll out that name!—"can guard his own honor and his own destiny." 

 The door into the private hall opened and in came Brauner and his wife, fine pictures of homely content triumphing over the discomforts of Sunday clothes. They looked at Mr. Feuerstein with candidly questioning surprise. Avenue A is not afraid to look, and speak, its mind. Otto came forward.  "This is Mr. Feuerstein," he said. 

 At once Brauner showed that he was satisfied, and Mrs. Brauner beamed. "Oh, a friend of yours," Brauner said, extending his hand.  "Glad to see any friend of Otto's." 

 Mr. Feuerstein advanced impressively and bowed first over Brauner's hand, then over Mrs. Brauner's.  "I am not a friend of this—young man," he said with the dignity of a Hoheit.  "I have come here to propose for the honor of your daughter's hand in marriage." 

 Mr. Feuerstein noted the stupefied expression of the delicatessen dealer and his wife, and glanced from Otto to Hilda with a triumphant smile. But Hilda was under no delusion. She shivered and moved nearer to Otto. She felt that he was her hope in this crisis which the mad love of her hero-lover had forced. Brauner was the 

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