and produced a layer of bills. "Here's two hundred dollars, sweet," he
said, "until I see or hear from you. I'll see that you have whatever
you need; and now don't think that I don't love you. You know I do. I'm
crazy about you."

Aileen protested that she did not need so much--that she did not really
need any--she had some at home; but he put that aside. He knew that she
must have money.

"Don't talk, honey," he said. "I know what you need." She had been
so used to receiving money from her father and mother in comfortable
amounts from time to time that she thought nothing of it. Frank loved
her so much that it made everything right between them. She softened
in her mood and they discussed the matter of letters, reaching the
conclusion that a private messenger would be safest. When finally they
parted, Aileen, from being sunk in the depths by his uncertain attitude,
was now once more on the heights. She decided that he did love her, and
went away smiling. She had her Frank to fall back on--she would teach
her father. Cowperwood shook his head, following her with his eyes. She
represented an additional burden, but give her up, he certainly could
not. Tear the veil from this illusion of affection and make her feel so
wretched when he cared for her so much? No. There was really nothing for
him to do but what he had done. After all, he reflected, it might not
work out so badly. Any detective work that Butler might choose to do
would prove that she had not run to him. If at any moment it became
necessary to bring common sense into play to save the situation from
a deadly climax, he could have the Butlers secretly informed as to
Aileen's whereabouts. That would show he had little to do with it,
and they could try to persuade Aileen to come home again. Good might
result--one could not tell. He would deal with the evils as they arose.
He drove quickly back to his office, and Aileen returned to her home
determined to put her plan into action. Her father had given her some
little time in which to decide--possibly he would give her longer--but
she would not wait. Having always had her wish granted in everything,
she could not understand why she was not to have her way this time. It
was about five o'clock now. She would wait until all the members of the
family were comfortably seated at the dinner-table, which would be about
seven o'clock, and then slip out.

On arriving home, however, she was greeted by an unexpected reason
f