o the current ethics and morals of life.
Cowperwood was married, and because of his attitude of affection for
her his money was tainted. She had long speculated on his relation to
Aileen, the basis of their differences, had often wondered why neither
she nor her mother had ever been introduced. What type of woman was
the second Mrs. Cowperwood? Beyond generalities Cowperwood had never
mentioned her. Berenice actually thought to seek her out in some
inconspicuous way, but, as it chanced, one night her curiosity was
rewarded without effort. She was at the opera with friends, and her
escort nudged her arm.

"Have you noticed Box 9--the lady in white satin with the green lace
shawl?"

"Yes." Berenice raised her glasses.

"Mrs. Frank Algernon Cowperwood, the wife of the Chicago millionaire.
They have just built that house at 68th Street. He has part lease of
number 9, I believe."

Berenice almost started, but retained her composure, giving merely an
indifferent glance. A little while after, she adjusted her glasses
carefully and studied Mrs. Cowperwood. She noted curiously that
Aileen's hair was somewhat the color of her own--more carroty red. She
studied her eyes, which were slightly ringed, her smooth cheeks and
full mouth, thickened somewhat by drinking and dissipation. Aileen was
good-looking, she thought--handsome in a material way, though so much
older than herself. Was it merely age that was alienating Cowperwood,
or was it some deep-seated intellectual difference? Obviously Mrs.
Cowperwood was well over forty--a fact which did not give Berenice any
sense of satisfaction or of advantage. She really did not care enough.
It did occur to her, however, that this woman whom she was observing
had probably given the best years of her life to Cowperwood--the
brilliant years of her girlhood. And now he was tired of her! There
were small carefully powdered lines at the tails of Aileen's eyes and
at the corners of her mouth. At the same time she seemed
preternaturally gay, kittenish, spoiled. With her were two men--one a
well-known actor, sinisterly handsome, a man with a brutal, unclean
reputation, the other a young social pretender--both unknown to
Berenice. Her knowledge was to come from her escort, a loquacious
youth, more or less versed, as it happened, in the gay life of the city.

"I hear that she is creating quite a stir in Bohemia," he observed. "If
she expects to enter society it's a poor way to beg