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- Теодор Драйзер
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- Стр. 233/332
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The
complications
which
had
followed
his
various
sentimental
affairs
left
Cowperwood
in
a
quandary
at
times
as
to
whether
there
could
be
any
peace
or
satisfaction
outside
of
monogamy
,
after
all
.
Although
Mrs.
Hand
had
gone
to
Europe
at
the
crisis
of
her
affairs
,
she
had
returned
to
seek
him
out
.
Cecily
Haguenin
found
many
opportunities
of
writing
him
letters
and
assuring
him
of
her
undying
affection
.
Florence
Cochrane
persisted
in
seeing
or
attempting
to
see
him
even
after
his
interest
in
her
began
to
wane
.
For
another
thing
Aileen
,
owing
to
the
complication
and
general
degeneracy
of
her
affairs
,
had
recently
begun
to
drink
.
Owing
to
the
failure
of
her
affair
with
Lynde
--
for
in
spite
of
her
yielding
she
had
never
had
any
real
heart
interest
in
it
--
and
to
the
cavalier
attitude
with
which
Cowperwood
took
her
disloyalty
,
she
had
reached
that
state
of
speculative
doldrums
where
the
human
animal
turns
upon
itself
in
bitter
self-analysis
;
the
end
with
the
more
sensitive
or
the
less
durable
is
dissipation
or
even
death
.
Woe
to
him
who
places
his
faith
in
illusion
--
the
only
reality
--
and
woe
to
him
who
does
not
.
In
one
way
lies
disillusion
with
its
pain
,
in
the
other
way
regret
.
After
Lynde
's
departure
for
Europe
,
whither
she
had
refused
to
follow
him
,
Aileen
took
up
with
a
secondary
personage
by
the
name
of
Watson
Skeet
,
a
sculptor
.
Unlike
most
artists
,
he
was
the
solitary
heir
of
the
president
of
an
immense
furniture-manufacturing
company
in
which
he
refused
to
take
any
interest
.
He
had
studied
abroad
,
but
had
returned
to
Chicago
with
a
view
to
propagating
art
in
the
West
.
A
large
,
blond
,
soft-fleshed
man
,
he
had
a
kind
of
archaic
naturalness
and
simplicity
which
appealed
to
Aileen
.
They
had
met
at
the
Rhees
Griers
'
.
Feeling
herself
neglected
after
Lynde
's
departure
,
and
dreading
loneliness
above
all
things
,
Aileen
became
intimate
with
Skeet
,
but
to
no
intense
mental
satisfaction
.
That
driving
standard
within
--
that
obsessing
ideal
which
requires
that
all
things
be
measured
by
it
--
was
still
dominant
.
Who
has
not
experienced
the
chilling
memory
of
the
better
thing
?
How
it
creeps
over
the
spirit
of
one
's
current
dreams
!
Like
the
specter
at
the
banquet
it
stands
,
its
substanceless
eyes
viewing
with
a
sad
philosophy
the
makeshift
feast
.
The
what-might-have-been
of
her
life
with
Cowperwood
walked
side
by
side
with
her
wherever
she
went
.
Once
occasionally
indulging
in
cigarettes
,
she
now
smoked
almost
constantly
.
Once
barely
sipping
at
wines
,
cocktails
,
brandy-and-soda
,
she
now
took
to
the
latter
,
or
,
rather
,
to
a
new
whisky-and-soda
combination
known
as
"
highball
"
with
a
kind
of
vehemence
which
had
little
to
do
with
a
taste
for
the
thing
itself
.
True
,
drinking
is
,
after
all
,
a
state
of
mind
,
and
not
an
appetite
.
She
had
found
on
a
number
of
occasions
when
she
had
been
quarreling
with
Lynde
or
was
mentally
depressed
that
in
partaking
of
these
drinks
a
sort
of
warm
,
speculative
indifference
seized
upon
her
.
She
was
no
longer
so
sad
.
She
might
cry
,
but
it
was
in
a
soft
,
rainy
,
relieving
way
.
Her
sorrows
were
as
strange
,
enticing
figures
in
dreams
.
They
moved
about
and
around
her
,
not
as
things
actually
identical
with
her
,
but
as
ills
which
she
could
view
at
a
distance
.
Sometimes
both
she
and
they
(
for
she
saw
herself
also
as
in
a
kind
of
mirage
or
inverted
vision
)
seemed
beings
of
another
state
,
troubled
,
but
not
bitterly
painful
.
The
old
nepenthe
of
the
bottle
had
seized
upon
her
.
After
a
few
accidental
lapses
,
in
which
she
found
it
acted
as
a
solace
or
sedative
,
the
highball
visioned
itself
to
her
as
a
resource
.
Why
should
she
not
drink
if
it
relieved
her
,
as
it
actually
did
,
of
physical
and
mental
pain
?
There
were
apparently
no
bad
after-effects
.
The
whisky
involved
was
diluted
to
an
almost
watery
state
.
It
was
her
custom
now
when
at
home
alone
to
go
to
the
butler
's
pantry
where
the
liquors
were
stored
and
prepare
a
drink
for
herself
,
or
to
order
a
tray
with
a
siphon
and
bottle
placed
in
her
room
.
Cowperwood
,
noticing
the
persistence
of
its
presence
there
and
the
fact
that
she
drank
heavily
at
table
,
commented
upon
it
.
"
You
're
not
taking
too
much
of
that
,
are
you
,
Aileen
?
"
he
questioned
one
evening
,
watching
her
drink
down
a
tumbler
of
whisky
and
water
as
she
sat
contemplating
a
pattern
of
needlework
with
which
the
table
was
ornamented
.
"
Certainly
I
'm
not
,
"
she
replied
,
irritably
,
a
little
flushed
and
thick
of
tongue
.
"
Why
do
you
ask
?
"
She
herself
had
been
wondering
whether
in
the
course
of
time
it
might
not
have
a
depreciating
effect
on
her
complexion
.
This
was
the
only
thing
that
still
concerned
her
--
her
beauty
.
"
Well
,
I
see
you
have
that
bottle
in
your
room
all
the
time
.
I
was
wondering
if
you
might
not
be
forgetting
how
much
you
are
using
it
.
"
Because
she
was
so
sensitive
he
was
trying
to
be
tactful
.
"
Well
,
"
she
answered
,
crossly
,
"
what
if
I
am
?
It
would
n't
make
any
particular
difference
if
I
did
.
I
might
as
well
drink
as
do
some
other
things
that
are
done
.
"
