rying ratios--hence changes.
Morals--those who had them had them; those who hadn't, hadn't. There was
no explaining. As for him, he saw nothing wrong in the sex relationship.
Between those who were mutually compatible it was innocent and
delicious. Aileen in his arms, unmarried, but loved by him, and he by
her, was as good and pure as any living woman--a great deal purer than
most. One found oneself in a given social order, theory, or scheme
of things. For purposes of social success, in order not to offend, to
smooth one's path, make things easy, avoid useless criticism, and the
like, it was necessary to create an outward seeming--ostensibly conform.
Beyond that it was not necessary to do anything. Never fail, never get
caught. If you did, fight your way out silently and say nothing. That
was what he was doing in connection with his present financial troubles;
that was what he had been ready to do the other day when they were
caught. It was something of all this that was coloring Aileen's mood as
she listened at present.

"But father," she protested, "I love Mr. Cowperwood. It's almost the
same as if I were married to him. He will marry me some day when he gets
a divorce from Mrs. Cowperwood. You don't understand how it is. He's
very fond of me, and I love him. He needs me."

Butler looked at her with strange, non-understanding eyes. "Divorce,
did you say," he began, thinking of the Catholic Church and its dogma in
regard to that. "He'll divorce his own wife and children--and for you,
will he? He needs you, does he?" he added, sarcastically. "What about
his wife and children? I don't suppose they need him, do they? What talk
have ye?"

Aileen flung her head back defiantly. "It's true, nevertheless," she
reiterated. "You just don't understand."

Butler could scarcely believe his ears. He had never heard such talk
before in his life from any one. It amazed and shocked him. He was
quite aware of all the subtleties of politics and business, but these
of romance were too much for him. He knew nothing about them. To think
a daughter of his should be talking like this, and she a Catholic! He
could not understand where she got such notions unless it was from the
Machiavellian, corrupting brain of Cowperwood himself.

"How long have ye had these notions, my child?" he suddenly asked,
calmly and soberly. "Where did ye get them? Ye certainly never heard
anything like that in this house, I warrant. Ye talk as though ye had
go