pect to stay in love. I wish I were free so I could
rearrange my life on a different basis and find a little comfort before
I die. You don't really care for me any more. You can't. I'll admit
I have treated you badly; but if I had really loved you I wouldn't have
done it, would I? It isn't my fault that love died in me, is it? It
isn't your fault. I'm not blaming you. Love isn't a bunch of coals
that can be blown by an artificial bellows into a flame at any time.
It's out, and that's an end of it. Since I don't love you and can't,
why should you want me to stay near you? Why shouldn't you let me go
and give me a divorce? You'll be just as happy or unhappy away from me
as with me. Why not? I want to be free again. I'm miserable here, and
have been for a long time. I'll make any arrangement that seems fair
and right to you. I'll give you this house--these pictures, though I
really don't see what you'd want with them." (Cowperwood had no
intention of giving up the gallery if he could help it.) "I'll settle
on you for life any income you desire, or I'll give you a fixed sum
outright. I want to be free, and I want you to let me be. Now why
won't you be sensible and let me do this?"

During this harangue Cowperwood had first sat and then stood. At the
statement that his love was really dead--the first time he had ever
baldly and squarely announced it--Aileen had paled a little and put her
hand to her forehead over her eyes. It was then he had arisen. He was
cold, determined, a little revengeful for the moment. She realized now
that he meant this--that in his heart was no least feeling for all that
had gone before--no sweet memories, no binding thoughts of happy hours,
days, weeks, years, that were so glittering and wonderful to her in
retrospect. Great Heavens, it was really true! His love was dead; he
had said it! But for the nonce she could not believe it; she would not.
It really couldn't be true.

"Frank," she began, coming toward him, the while he moved away to evade
her. Her eyes were wide, her hands trembling, her lips moving in an
emotional, wavy, rhythmic way. "You really don't mean that, do you?
Love isn't wholly dead, is it? All the love you used to feel for me?
Oh, Frank, I have raged, I have hated, I have said terrible, ugly
things, but it has been because I have been in love with you! All the
time I have. You know that. I have felt so bad--O God, how bad I have
felt! Frank, you don't know i