For a moment silence prevailed. Nothing but the tittering of the maid in the kitchen was to be heard. "I beg pardon," said Richard in the same threatening manner. "I merely wanted to make sure how you are really getting along." "Mr. Dehnicke, a good friend of mine--Mr. Redlich, my old friend," said Lilly. Now Richard scrutinised his dread rival more closely--looked in amazement and disapproval at the rank growth of his beard and shaggy mane--his gaze travelled downwards--and brightened--a nonplussed look, but also a joyous look of recognition, betrayed itself in his features. Wasn't that _his_ suit and _his_ shirt? His eyes dropped lower without halting at the napkin in the soup plate. Weren't those _his_ trousers? Weren't those _his_ discarded boots which the brilliant intellectual scholar was wearing? "Oh, that's it," he said. "Nothing more." With a wicked grin of scorn he turned to Lilly, who could scarcely keep on her feet. "May I speak to you alone for an instant?" "Will you excuse me, Mr. Redlich?" she said, and in her confusion and from force of habit, she opened the door to--the bedroom, as if that were the prescribed place for single ladies to receive their gentlemen friends. Richard, who was as accustomed to the way as she, followed her, unconscious of the exposure of intimacy. "Listen," he said upon shutting the door. "I was a donkey for having been jealous of your affinity. But now I swear to you, your friends may come and go, morning or evening, any time you wish. I'll always keep old suits on hand for them. Good-by--goosie!" He left. She could hear him laughing even after the door fell shut behind him. She was frightfully ashamed. How would she ever summon the courage to appear before her girlhood friend again, before that moral person who had shrunk at the mere mention of her divorce? Then she realised she was standing in the bedroom. Everything was revealed, all the disgrace of her existence, all, all. No matter how unworldly he might be, the rôle of the man who had so suddenly intruded in the apartment and as suddenly disappeared, must be patent. A long time she hesitated, the knob in her hand, listening to what Fritz Redlich was doing. She feared his tread, the clearing of his throat. His very silence boded evil. At last, trembling, ready to confess everything amid tears of contrition, she stepped into the dining-room. Lo and behold! He sat quietly at his accustomed place rubbing at the spot the wet napkin had made on his waistcoat. The blue goggles lay next to his plate, and he blinked at her amiably with no air of constraint. "Has the gentleman left already?" he asked innocently. At that moment the roast was brought in, and he fell to with avidity, making no further mention of the interlude. Actually--so pure was his conscience that he did not detect the impure even if thrust under his very nose. Oh, how grateful she was to him!