ochrane,
falling victims, among others, to what many would have called his
wiles. As a matter of fact, in most cases he was as much sinned
against as sinning, since the provocation was as much offered as given.

The manner in which he came to get in with Cecily Haguenin was simple
enough. Being an old friend of the family, and a frequent visitor at
her father's house, he found this particular daughter of desire an easy
victim. She was a vigorous blonde creature of twenty at this time,
very full and plump, with large, violet eyes, and with considerable
alertness of mind--a sort of doll girl with whom Cowperwood found it
pleasant to amuse himself. A playful gamboling relationship had
existed between them when she was a mere child attending school, and
had continued through her college years whenever she happened to be at
home on a vacation. In these very latest days when Cowperwood on
occasion sat in the Haguenin library consulting with the
journalist-publisher concerning certain moves which he wished to have
put right before the public he saw considerably more of Cecily. One
night, when her father had gone out to look up the previous action of
the city council in connection with some matter of franchises, a series
of more or less sympathetic and understanding glances suddenly
culminated in Cecily's playfully waving a new novel, which she happened
to have in her hand, in Cowperwood's face; and he, in reply, laid hold
caressingly of her arms.

"You can't stop me so easily," she observed, banteringly.

"Oh yes, I can," he replied.

A slight struggle ensued, in which he, with her semiwilful connivance,
managed to manoeuver her into his arms, her head backward against his
shoulder.

"Well," she said, looking up at him with a semi-nervous,
semi-provocative glance, "now what? You'll just have to let me go."

"Not very soon, though."

"Oh yes, you will. My father will be here in a moment."

"Well, not until then, anyhow. You're getting to be the sweetest girl."

She did not resist, but remained gazing half nervously, half dreamily
at him, whereupon he smoothed her cheek, and then kissed her. Her
father's returning step put an end to this; but from this point on
ascent or descent to a perfect understanding was easily made.

In the matter of Florence Cochrane, the daughter of Aymar Cochrane, the
president of the Chicago West Division Company--a second affair of the
period--the approach was only slightly differ