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ly　promiscuous；　so　long　as　he　trotted　here　and　there；　not　snared　by　any　particular　siren；　she　could　not　despair；　for；　after　all；　she　had　ensnared　him　and　held　him　deliciouslywithout　variation；　she　believed；　for　all　of　ten　yearsa　feat　which　no　other　woman　had　achieved　before　or　after。　　Rita　Sohlberg　might　have　succeededthe　beast！　How　she　hated　the　thought　of　Rita！　By　this　time；　however；　Cowperwood　was　getting　on　in　years。　　The　day　must　come　when　he　would　be　less　keen　for　variability；　or；　at　least；　would　think　it　no　longer　worth　while　to　change。　　If　only　he　did　not　find　some　one　woman；　some　Circe；　who　would　bind　and　enslave　him　in　these　Later　years　as　she　had　herself　done　in　his　earlier　ones　all　might　yet　be　well。　　At　the　same　time　she　lived　in　daily　terror　of　a　discovery　which　was　soon　to　follow。

She　had　gone　out　one　day　to　pay　a　call　on　some　one　to　whom　Rhees　Grier；　the　Chicago　sculptor；　had　given　her　an　introduction。　　Crossing　Central　Park　in　one　of　the　new　French　machines　which　Cowperwood　had　purchased　for　her　indulgence；　her　glance　wandered　down　a　branch　road　to　where　another　automobile　similar　to　her　own　was　stalled。　　It　was　early　in　the　afternoon；　at　which　time　Cowperwood　was　presumably　engaged　in　Wall　Street。　　Yet　there　he　was；　and　with　him　two　women；　neither　of　whom；　in　the　speed　of　passing；　could　Aileen　quite　make　out。　　She　had　her　car　halted　and　driven　to　within　seeing…distance　behind　a　clump　of　bushes。　　A　chauffeur　whom　she　did　not　know　was　tinkering　at　a　handsome　machine；　while　on　the　grass　near　by　stood　Cowperwood　and　a　tall；　slender　girl　with　red　hair　somewhat　like　Aileen's　own。　　Her　expression　was　aloof；　poetic；　rhapsodical。　　Aileen　could　not　analyze　it；　but　it　fixed　her　attention　completely。　　In　the　tonneau　sat　an　elderly　lady；　whom　Aileen　at　once　assumed　to　be　the　girl's　mother。　　Who　were　they？　What　was　Cowperwood　doing　here　in　the　Park　at　this　hour？　Where　were　they　going？　With　a　horrible　retch　of　envy　she　noted　upon　Cowperwood's　face　a　smile　the　like　and　import　of　which　she　well　knew。　　How　often　she　had　seen　it　years　and　years　before！　Having　escaped　detection；　she　ordered　her　chauffeur　to　follow　the　car；　which　soon　started；　at　a　safe　distance。　　She　saw　Cowperwood　and　the　two　ladies　put　down　at　one　of　the　great　hotels；　and　followed　them　into　the　dining…room；　where；　from　behind　a　screen；　after　the　most　careful　manoeuvering；　she　had　an　opportunity　of　studying　them　at　her　leisure。　　She　drank　in　every　detail　of　Berenice's　facethe　delicately　pointed　chin；　the　clear；　fixed　blue　eyes；　the　straight；　sensitive　nose　and　tawny　hair。　　Calling　the　head　waiter；　she　inquired　the　names　of　the　two　women；　and　in　return　for　a　liberal　tip　was　informed　at　once。　　〃Mrs。　Ira　Carter；　I　believe；　and　her　daughter；　Miss　Fleming；　Miss　Berenice　Fleming。　　Mrs。　Carter　was　Mrs。　Fleming　once。〃　Aileen　followed　them　out　eventually；　and　in　her　own　car　pursued　them　to　their　door；　into　which　Cowperwood　also　disappeared。　　The　next　day；　by　telephoning　the　apartment　to　make　inquiry；　she　learned　that　they　actually　lived　there。　　After　a　few　days　of　brooding　she　employed　a　detective；　and　learned　that　Cowperwood　was　a　constant　visitor　at　the　Carters'；　that　the　machine　in　which　they　rode　was　his　maintained　at　a　separate　garage；　and　that　they　were　of　society　truly。　　Aileen　would　never　have　followed　the　clue　so　vigorously　had　it　not　been　for　the　look　she　had　seen　Cowperwood　fix　on　the　girl　in　the　Park　and　in　the　restaurantan　air　of　soul…hunger　which　could　not　be　gainsaid。

Let　no　one　ridicule　the　terrors　of　unrequited　love。　　Its　tentacles　are　cancerous；　its　grip　is　of　icy　death。　　Sitting　in　her　boudoir　immediately　after　these　events；　driving；　walking；　shopping；　calling　on　the　few　with　whom　she　had　managed　to　scrape　an　acquaintance；　Aileen　thought　morning；　noon；　and　night　of　this　new　woman。　　The　pale；　delicate　face　haunted　her。　　What　were　those　eyes；　so　remote　in　their　gaze；　surveying？　Love？　Cowperwood？　Yes！　Yes！　Gone　in　a　flash；　and　permanently；　as　it　seemed　to　Aileen；　was　the　value　of　this　house；　her　dream　of　a　new　social　entrance。　　And　she　had　already　suffered　so　much；　endured　so　much。　　Cowperwood　being　absent　for　a　fortnight；　she　moped　in　her　room；　sighed；　raged；　and　then　began　to　drink。　　Finally　she　sent　for　an　actor　who　had　once　paid　attention　to　her　in　Chicago；　and　whom　she　had　later　met　here　in　the　circle　of　the　theaters。　　She　was　not　so　much　burning　with　lust　as　determined　in　her　drunken　gloom　that　she　would　have　revenge。　　For　days　there　followed　an　orgy；　in　which　wine；　bestiality；　mutual　recrimination；　hatred；　and　despair　were　involved。　　Sobering　eventually；　she　wondered　what　Cowperwood　would　think　of　her　now　if　he　knew　this？　Could　he　ever　love　her　any　more？　Could　he　even　tolerate　her？　But　what　did　he　care？　It　served　him　right；　the　dog！　She　would　show　him；　she　would　wreck　his　dream；　she　would　make　her　own　life　a　scandal；　and　his　too！　She　would　shame　him　before　all　the　world。　　He　should　never　have　a　divorce！　He　should　never　be　able　to　marry　a　girl　like　that　and　leave　her　alonenever；　never；　never！　When　Cowperwood　returned　she　snarled　at　him　without　vouchsafing　an　explanation。

He　suspected　at　once　that　she　had　been　spying　upon　his　manoeuvers。　Moreover；　he　did　not　fail　to　notice　her　heavy　eyes；　superheated　cheeks；　and　sickly　breath。　　Obviously　she　had　abandoned　her　dream　of　a　social　victory　of　some　kind；　and　was　entering　on　a　career　of　whatdebauchery？　Since　coming　to　New　York　she　had　failed　utterly；　he　thought；　to　make　any　single　intelligent　move　toward　her　social　rehabilitation。　　The　banal　realms　of　art　and　the　stage；　with　which　in　his　absence　or　neglect　she　had　trifled　with　here；　as　she　had　done　in　Chicago；　were　worse　than　useless；　they　were　destructive。　　He　must　have　a　long　talk　with　her　one　of　these　days；　must　confess　frankly　to　his　passion　for　Berenice；　and　appeal　to　her　sympathy　and　good　sense。　　　What　scenes　would　follow！　Yet　she　might　succumb；　at　that。　　Despair；　pride；　disgust　might　move　her。　　Besides；　he　could　now　bestow　upon　her　a　very　large　fortune。　　She　could　go　to　Europe　or　remain　here　and　live　in　luxury。　　He　would　always　remain　friendly　with　herhelpful；　advisoryif　she　would　permit　it。

The　conversation　which　eventually　followed　on　this　topic　was　of　such　stuff　as　dreams　are　made　of。　　It　sounded　hollow　and　unnatural　within　the　walls　where　it　took　place。　　Consider　the　great　house　in　upper　Fifth　Avenue；　its　magnificent　chambers　aglow；　of　a　stormy　Sunday　night。　　Cowperwood　was　lingering　in　the　city　at　this　time；　busy　with　a　group　of　Eastern　financiers　who　were　influencing　his　contest　in　the　state　legislature　of　Illinois。　　Aileen　was　momentarily　consoled　by　the　thought　that　for　him　perhaps　love　might；　after　all；　be　a　thing　aparta　thing　no　longer　vital　and　soul…controlling。　To…night　he　was　sitting　in　the　court　of　orchids；　reading　a　book　the　diary　of　Cellini；　which　some　one　had　recommended　to　him　stopping　to　think　now　and　then　of　things　in　Chicago　or　Springfield；　or　to　make　a　note。　　Outside　the　rain　was　splashing　in　torrents　on　the　electric…lighted　asphalt　of　Fifth　Avenuethe　Park　opposite　a　Corot…like　shadow。　　Aileen　was　in　the　music…room　strumming　indifferently。　　She　was　thinking　of　times　pastLynde；　from　whom　she　had　not　heard　in　half　a　year；　Watson　Skeet；　the　sculptor；　who　was　also　out　of　her　ken　at　present。　　When　Cowperwood　was　in　the　city　and　in　the　house　she　was　accustomed　from　habit　to　remain　indoors　or　near。　　So　great　is　the　influence　of　past　customs　of　devotion　that　they　linger　long　past　the　hour　when　the　act　ceases　to　become　valid。

〃What　an　awful　night！〃　she　observed　once；　strolling　to　a　window　to　peer　out　from　behind　a　brocaded　valance。

〃It　is　bad；　isn't　it？〃　replied　Cowperwood；　as　she　returned。　　〃Hadn't　you　thought　of　going　anywhere　this　evening？〃

〃Nooh　no；〃　replied　Aileen；　indifferently。　　She　rose　restlessly　from　the　piano；　and　strolled　on　into　the　great　picture…gallery。　　Stopping　before　one　of　Raphael　Sanzio's　Holy　Families；　only　recently　hung；　she　paused　to　contemplate　the　serene　facemedieval；　Madonnaesque；　Italian。

The　lady　seemed　fragile；　colorless；　spinelesswithout　life。　　Were　there　such　women？　Why　did　artists　paint　them？　Yet　the　little　Christ　was　sweet。　　Art　bored　Aileen　unless　others　were　enthusiastic。　　She　craved　only　the　fanfare　of　the　livingnot　painted　resemblances。　　She　returned　to　the　music…room；　to　the　court　of　orchids；　and　was　just　about　to　go　up…stairs　to　prepare　herself　a　drink　and　read　a　novel　when　Cowperwood　observed：

〃You're　bored；　aren't　you？〃

〃Oh　no；　I'm　used　to　lonely　evenings；〃　she　replied；　quietly　and　without　any　attempt　at　sarcasm。

Relentless　as　he　was　in　hewing　life　to　his　theoryhammering　substance　to　the　form　of　his　thoughtyet　he　was　tender；　too；　in　the　manner　of　a　rainbow　dancing　over　an　abyss。　　For　the　moment　he　wanted　to　say；　〃Poor　girlie；　you　do　have　a　hard　time；　don't　you；　with　me？〃　but　he　reflected　instantly　how　such　a　remark　would　be　received。　　He　meditated；　holding　his　book　in　his　hand　above　his　knee；　looking　at　the　purling　water　that　flowed　and　flowed　in　sprinkling　showers　over　the　sportive　marble　figures　of　mermaids；　a　Triton；　and　nymphs　astride　of　fishes。

〃You're　really　not　happy　in　this　state；　any　more；　are　you？〃　he　inquired。　　〃Would　you　feel　any　more　comfortable　if　I　stayed　away　entirely？〃

His　mind　had　turned　of　a　sudden　to　the　one　problem　that　was　fretting　him　and　to　the　opportunities　of　this　hour。

〃You　would；〃　she　replied；　for　her　boredom　merely　concealed　her　unhappiness　in　no　longer　being　able　to　command　in　the　least　his　interest　or　his　sentiment。

〃Why　do　you　say　that　in　just　that　way？〃　he　asked。

〃Because　I　know　you　would。　　I　know　why　you　ask。　　You　know　well　enough　that　it　isn't　anything　I　want　to　do　that　is　concerned。　　It's　what　you　want　to　do。　　You'd　like　to　turn　me　off　like　an　old　horse　now　that　you　are　tired　of　me；　and　so　you　ask　whether　I　would　feel　any　more　comfortable。　　What　a　liar　you　are；　Frank！　How　really　shifty　you　are！　I　don't　wonder　you're　a　multimillionaire。　　If　you　could　live　long　enough　you　would　eat　up　the　whole　world。　　Don't　you　think　for　one　moment　that　I　don't　know　of　Berenice　Fleming　here　in　New　York；　and　how　you're　dancing　attendance　on　herbecause　I　do。　　I　know　how　you　have　been　hanging　about　her　for　months　and　monthsever　since　we　have　been　her