"Yes—I know," interrupted Hilda. She went up to him and put her arm round his neck. "We'll have to begin at the bottom," she said with a gentle, cheerful smile.
Brauner pretended that he heard some one calling him from the shop. "Yes right away!" he shouted. And when he was alone in the shop he wiped his eyes, not before a large tear had blistered the top sheet of a pile of wrapping paper.
"I know you don't care for me as—as"—Otto was standing uneasily, his eyes down and his face red. "It was hard enough for you before. Now—I couldn't let you do it—dear."
"You can't get rid of me so easily," she said. "I know I'm getting along and I won't be an old maid."
He paid no attention to her raillery. "I haven't got anything to ask you to share," he went on. "I've been working ever since I was eleven—and that's fourteen years—to get what I had. And it's all gone. It'll take several years to pay off my debts, and mother must be supported. No—I've got to give it up."
"Won't you marry me, Otto?" She put her arms round his neck.
His lips trembled and his voice broke. "I can't—let you do it, Hilda."
"Very well." She pretended to sigh.
"But you must come back this evening. I want to ask you again."
"Yes, I'll come. But you can't change me."