gift of passion and
affection on the altar of her love. It wasn't fair, really. She must
be made to stay. He caught up at last, reaching her under the dark of
the November trees.

"Aileen," he said, laying hold of her and putting his arms around her
waist. "Aileen, dearest, this is plain madness. It is insanity.
You're not in your right mind. Don't go! Don't leave me! I love you!
Don't you know I do? Can't you really see that? Don't run away like
this, and don't cry. I do love you, and you know it. I always shall.
Come back now. Kiss me. I'll do better. Really I will. Give me
another chance. Wait and see. Come now--won't you? That's my girl, my
Aileen. Do come. Please!"

She pulled on, but he held her, smoothing her arms, her neck, her face.

"Aileen!" he entreated.

She tugged so that he was finally compelled to work her about into his
arms; then, sobbing, she stood there agonized but happy once more, in a
way.

"But I don't want to," she protested. "You don't love me any more. Let
me go."

But he kept hold of her, urging, and finally she said, her head upon
his shoulder as of old, "Don't make me come back to-night. I don't want
to. I can't. Let me go down-town. I'll come back later, maybe."

"Then I'll go with you," he said, endearingly. "It isn't right. There
are a lot of things I should be doing to stop this scandal, but I'll
go."

And together they sought a street-car.

Chapter XX

"Man and Superman"

It is a sad commentary on all save the most chemic unions--those dark
red flowers of romance that bloom most often only for a tragic
end--that they cannot endure the storms of disaster that are wont to
overtake them. A woman like Rita Sohlberg, with a seemingly urgent
feeling for Cowperwood, was yet not so charmed by him but that this
shock to her pride was a marked sedative. The crushing weight of such
an exposure as this, the Homeric laughter inherent, if not indicated in
the faulty planning, the failure to take into account beforehand all
the possibilities which might lead to such a disaster, was too much for
her to endure. She was stung almost to desperation, maddened, at the
thought of the gay, idle way in which she had walked into Mrs.
Cowperwood's clutches and been made into a spectacle and a
laughing-stock by her. What a brute she was--what a demon! Her own
physical weakness under the circumstances was no grief to her--rather a
salve to her superior disposition;