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Updated: May 7, 2025
Then Sophie Liebers came and they went into the Avenue for a walk. They pushed their way through and with the throngs up into Tompkins Square the center of one of the several vast districts, little known because little written about, that contain the real New York and the real New Yorkers.
She opened the door a few inches and said through the crack: "It's me, Mr. Feuerstein Sophie Liebers from down in Avenue A Hilda's friend." "Come in," was Mr. Feuerstein's reply, in a weary voice, after a pause. From Ganser's he had come straight home and had been sitting there ever since, depressed, angry, perplexed. Sophie pushed the door wide and stood upon the threshold.
He spent the whole evening with her; Mrs. Liebers and Sophie, with whom she had come, did not dare interrupt her pleasure, but had to stay, yawning and cross, until the last strain of Home, Sweet Home. At parting he pressed her hand. "I have been happy," he murmured in a tone which said, "Mine is a sorrow-shadowed soul that has rarely tasted happiness."
Her hand dropped and revealed the drawn, twitching face of Sophie Liebers. "Your Honor," said Hanlon hurriedly, "that is the woman upon whose statement we made our case. She told us she saw Hilda Brauner coming from the family entrance just before the alarm was given." "Are you sure she's the woman you saw?" said the magistrate to Wielert. "Be careful what you say."
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