whistles; but he liked in no way to have anything to
do with the rather commonplace routine of its manipulation.

The principal difficulty with Aileen under these circumstances, of
course, was her intense vanity and self-consciousness. Never was there
a vainer or more sex-troubled woman. Why, she asked herself, should
she sit here in loneliness day after day, brooding about Cowperwood,
eating her heart out, while he was flitting about gathering the sweets
of life elsewhere? Why should she not offer her continued charms as a
solace and a delight to other men who would appreciate them? Would not
such a policy have all the essentials of justice in it? Yet even now,
so precious had Cowperwood been to her hitherto, and so wonderful, that
she was scarcely able to think of serious disloyalty. He was so
charming when he was nice--so splendid. When Lynde sought to hold her
to the proposed luncheon engagement she at first declined. And there,
under slightly differing conditions, the matter might easily have
stood. But it so happened that just at this time Aileen was being
almost daily harassed by additional evidence and reminders of
Cowperwood's infidelity.

For instance, going one day to call on the Haguenins--for she was
perfectly willing to keep up the pretense of amity in so long as they
had not found out the truth--she was informed that Mrs. Haguenin was
"not at home." Shortly thereafter the Press, which had always been
favorable to Cowperwood, and which Aileen regularly read because of its
friendly comment, suddenly veered and began to attack him. There were
solemn suggestions at first that his policy and intentions might not be
in accord with the best interests of the city. A little later Haguenin
printed editorials which referred to Cowperwood as "the wrecker," "the
Philadelphia adventurer," "a conscienceless promoter," and the like.
Aileen guessed instantly what the trouble was, but she was too
disturbed as to her own position to make any comment. She could not
resolve the threats and menaces of Cowperwood's envious world any more
than she could see her way through her own grim difficulties.

One day, in scanning the columns of that faithful chronicle of Chicago
social doings, the Chicago Saturday Review, she came across an item
which served as a final blow. "For some time in high social circles,"
the paragraph ran, "speculation has been rife as to the amours and
liaisons of a certain individual of great wealt