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.