onal, and she did not care for Hand. Once married,
she had planned to repay herself in part by a very gay existence. The
affair between her and Cowperwood had begun at a dinner at the
magnificent residence of Hand on the North Shore Drive overlooking the
lake. Cowperwood had gone to talk over with her husband various
Chicago matters. Mrs. Hand was excited by his risque reputation. A
little woman in stature, with intensely white teeth, red lips which she
did not hesitate to rouge on occasion, brown hair, and small brown eyes
which had a gay, searching, defiant twinkle in them, she did her best
to be interesting, clever, witty, and she was.

"I know Frank Cowperwood by reputation, anyhow," she exclaimed, holding
out a small, white, jeweled hand, the nails of which at their juncture
with the flesh were tinged with henna, and the palms of which were
slightly rouged. Her eyes blazed, and her teeth gleamed. "One can
scarcely read of anything else in the Chicago papers."

Cowperwood returned his most winning beam. "I'm delighted to meet you,
Mrs. Hand. I have read of you, too. But I hope you don't believe all
the papers say about me."

"And if I did it wouldn't hurt you in my estimation. To do is to be
talked about in these days."

Cowperwood, because of his desire to employ the services of Hand, was
at his best. He kept the conversation within conventional lines; but
all the while he was exchanging secret, unobserved smiles with Mrs.
Hand, whom he realized at once had married Hand for his money, and was
bent, under a somewhat jealous espionage, to have a good time anyhow.
There is a kind of eagerness that goes with those who are watched and
wish to escape that gives them a gay, electric awareness and sparkle in
the presence of an opportunity for release. Mrs. Hand had this.
Cowperwood, a past master in this matter of femininity, studied her
hands, her hair, her eyes, her smile. After some contemplation he
decided, other things being equal, that Mrs. Hand would do, and that he
could be interested if she were very much interested in him. Her
telling eyes and smiles, the heightened color of her cheeks indicated
after a time that she was.

Meeting him on the street one day not long after they had first met,
she told him that she was going for a visit to friends at Oconomowoc,
in Wisconsin.

"I don't suppose you ever get up that far north in summer, do you?" she
asked, with an air, and smiled.

"I never hav