d straw hat, wide-brimmed,
airy, shading her lusty, animal eyes. The artist had caught her spirit
quite accurately, the dash, the assumption, the bravado based on the
courage of inexperience, or lack of true subtlety. A refreshing thing
in its way, a little showy, as everything that related to her was, and
inclined to arouse jealousy in those not so liberally endowed by life,
but fine as a character piece. In the warm glow of the guttered
gas-jets she looked particularly brilliant here, pampered, idle,
jaunty--the well-kept, stall-fed pet of the world. Many stopped to see,
and many were the comments, private and otherwise.

This day began with a flurry of uncertainty and worried anticipation on
the part of Aileen. At Cowperwood's suggestion she had employed a
social secretary, a poor hack of a girl, who had sent out all the
letters, tabulated the replies, run errands, and advised on one detail
and another. Fadette, her French maid, was in the throes of preparing
for two toilets which would have to be made this day, one by two
o'clock at least, another between six and eight. Her "mon dieus" and
"par bleus" could be heard continuously as she hunted for some article
of dress or polished an ornament, buckle, or pin. The struggle of
Aileen to be perfect was, as usual, severe. Her meditations, as to the
most becoming gown to wear were trying. Her portrait was on the east
wall in the art-gallery, a spur to emulation; she felt as though all
society were about to judge her. Theresa Donovan, the local
dressmaker, had given some advice; but Aileen decided on a heavy brown
velvet constructed by Worth, of Paris--a thing of varying aspects,
showing her neck and arms to perfection, and composing charmingly with
her flesh and hair. She tried amethyst ear-rings and changed to topaz;
she stockinged her legs in brown silk, and her feet were shod in brown
slippers with red enamel buttons.

The trouble with Aileen was that she never did these things with that
ease which is a sure sign of the socially efficient. She never quite
so much dominated a situation as she permitted it to dominate her.
Only the superior ease and graciousness of Cowperwood carried her
through at times; but that always did. When he was near she felt quite
the great lady, suited to any realm. When she was alone her courage,
great as it was, often trembled in the balance. Her dangerous past was
never quite out of her mind.

At four Kent McKibben, smug i