tion--that they were sensitive as to their lineage, and that money
in their estimation was supposed to make up for any deficiency in any
other respect. "Butler himself is a very presentable man," Cowperwood
had once remarked to her, "but Mrs. Butler--well, she's all right,
but she's a little commonplace. She's a fine woman, though, I think,
good-natured and good-hearted." He cautioned her not to overlook Aileen
and Norah, because the Butlers, mother and father, were very proud of
them.

Mrs. Cowperwood at this time was thirty-two years old; Cowperwood
twenty-seven. The birth and care of two children had made some
difference in her looks. She was no longer as softly pleasing, more
angular. Her face was hollow-cheeked, like so many of Rossetti's
and Burne-Jones's women. Her health was really not as good as it had
been--the care of two children and a late undiagnosed tendency toward
gastritis having reduced her. In short she was a little run down
nervously and suffered from fits of depression. Cowperwood had noticed
this. He tried to be gentle and considerate, but he was too much of a
utilitarian and practical-minded observer not to realize that he was
likely to have a sickly wife on his hands later. Sympathy and affection
were great things, but desire and charm must endure or one was compelled
to be sadly conscious of their loss. So often now he saw young girls who
were quite in his mood, and who were exceedingly robust and joyous. It
was fine, advisable, practical, to adhere to the virtues as laid down
in the current social lexicon, but if you had a sickly wife--And anyhow,
was a man entitled to only one wife? Must he never look at another
woman? Supposing he found some one? He pondered those things between
hours of labor, and concluded that it did not make so much difference.
If a man could, and not be exposed, it was all right. He had to be
careful, though. Tonight, as he sat on the side of his wife's bed, he
was thinking somewhat of this, for he had seen Aileen Butler again,
playing and singing at her piano as he passed the parlor door. She was
like a bright bird radiating health and enthusiasm--a reminder of youth
in general.

"It's a strange world," he thought; but his thoughts were his own, and
he didn't propose to tell any one about them.

The bond issue, when it came, was a curious compromise; for, although it
netted him his twenty thousand dollars and more and served to
introduce him to the financial notice o