ty had never been in question, and whose persistent affection and
faith had been greatly sinned against. Now all this was changed. The
manner in which he had sinned against her was plain enough, but the way
in which, out of pique, she had forsaken him was in the other balance.
Say what one will, the loyalty of woman, whether a condition in nature
or an evolved accident of sociology, persists as a dominating thought
in at least a section of the race; and women themselves, be it said,
are the ones who most loudly and openly subscribe to it. Cowperwood
himself was fully aware that Aileen had deserted him, not because she
loved him less or Lynde more, but because she was hurt--and deeply so.
Aileen knew that he knew this. From one point of view it enraged her
and made her defiant; from another it grieved her to think she had
uselessly sinned against his faith in her. Now he had ample excuse to
do anything he chose. Her best claim on him--her wounds--she had
thrown away as one throws away a weapon. Her pride would not let her
talk to him about this, and at the same time she could not endure the
easy, tolerant manner with which he took it. His smiles, his
forgiveness, his sometimes pleasant jesting were all a horrible offense.

To complete her mental quandary, she was already beginning to quarrel
with Lynde over this matter of her unbreakable regard for Cowperwood.
With the sufficiency of a man of the world Lynde intended that she
should succumb to him completely and forget her wonderful husband.
When with him she was apparently charmed and interested, yielding
herself freely, but this was more out of pique at Cowperwood's neglect
than from any genuine passion for Lynde. In spite of her pretensions of
anger, her sneers, and criticisms whenever Cowperwood's name came up,
she was, nevertheless, hopelessly fond of him and identified with him
spiritually, and it was not long before Lynde began to suspect this.
Such a discovery is a sad one for any master of women to make. It
jolted his pride severely.

"You care for him still, don't you?" he asked, with a wry smile, upon
one occasion. They were sitting at dinner in a private room at
Kinsley's, and Aileen, whose color was high, and who was becomingly
garbed in metallic-green silk, was looking especially handsome. Lynde
had been proposing that she should make special arrangements to depart
with him for a three-months' stay in Europe, but she would have nothing
to do with