nes. The little side porch which ornamented its south
wall commanded a charming view of the river, and all the windows and
doors were topped with lunettes of small-paned glass. The interior
of the house was not as pleasing as he would have had it. Artistic
impressiveness, as to the furniture at least, was wanting, although it
was new and good. The pictures were--well, simply pictures. There were
no books to speak of--the Bible, a few current novels, some of the more
significant histories, and a collection of antiquated odds and ends in
the shape of books inherited from relatives. The china was good--of a
delicate pattern. The carpets and wall-paper were too high in key. So it
went. Still, the personality of Lillian Semple was worth something,
for she was really pleasing to look upon, making a picture wherever she
stood or sat.

There were no children--a dispensation of sex conditions which had
nothing to do with her, for she longed to have them. She was without any
notable experience in social life, except such as had come to the Wiggin
family, of which she was a member--relatives and a few neighborhood
friends visiting. Lillian Wiggin, that was her maiden name--had two
brothers and one sister, all living in Philadelphia and all married at
this time. They thought she had done very well in her marriage.

It could not be said that she had wildly loved Mr. Semple at any time.
Although she had cheerfully married him, he was not the kind of man who
could arouse a notable passion in any woman. He was practical, methodic,
orderly. His shoe store was a good one--well-stocked with styles
reflecting the current tastes and a model of cleanliness and what one
might term pleasing brightness. He loved to talk, when he talked at
all, of shoe manufacturing, the development of lasts and styles. The
ready-made shoe--machine-made to a certain extent--was just coming into
its own slowly, and outside of these, supplies of which he kept, he
employed bench-making shoemakers, satisfying his customers with personal
measurements and making the shoes to order.

Mrs. Semple read a little--not much. She had a habit of sitting and
apparently brooding reflectively at times, but it was not based on any
deep thought. She had that curious beauty of body, though, that made her
somewhat like a figure on an antique vase, or out of a Greek chorus. It
was in this light, unquestionably, that Cowperwood saw her, for from the
beginning he could not keep his e