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- Теодор Драйзер
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- Стр. 73/332
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He
was
so
handsome
.
He
had
been
married
twice
.
Perhaps
his
first
wife
was
very
homely
or
very
mean-spirited
.
She
thought
of
this
,
and
the
next
day
went
to
work
meditatively
.
Cowperwood
,
engrossed
in
his
own
plans
,
was
not
thinking
of
her
at
present
.
He
was
thinking
of
the
next
moves
in
his
interesting
gas
war
.
And
Aileen
,
seeing
her
one
day
,
merely
considered
her
an
underling
.
The
woman
in
business
was
such
a
novelty
that
as
yet
she
was
declasse
.
Aileen
really
thought
nothing
of
Antoinette
at
all
.
Somewhat
over
a
year
after
Cowperwood
had
become
intimate
with
Mrs.
Sohlberg
his
rather
practical
business
relations
with
Antoinette
Nowak
took
on
a
more
intimate
color
.
What
shall
we
say
of
this
--
that
he
had
already
wearied
of
Mrs.
Sohlberg
?
Not
in
the
least
.
He
was
desperately
fond
of
her
.
Or
that
he
despised
Aileen
,
whom
he
was
thus
grossly
deceiving
?
Not
at
all
.
She
was
to
him
at
times
as
attractive
as
ever
--
perhaps
more
so
for
the
reason
that
her
self-imagined
rights
were
being
thus
roughly
infringed
upon
.
He
was
sorry
for
her
,
but
inclined
to
justify
himself
on
the
ground
that
these
other
relations
--
with
possibly
the
exception
of
Mrs.
Sohlherg
--
were
not
enduring
.
If
it
had
been
possible
to
marry
Mrs.
Sohlberg
he
might
have
done
so
,
and
he
did
speculate
at
times
as
to
whether
anything
would
ever
induce
Aileen
to
leave
him
;
but
this
was
more
or
less
idle
speculation
.
He
rather
fancied
they
would
live
out
their
days
together
,
seeing
that
he
was
able
thus
easily
to
deceive
her
.
But
as
for
a
girl
like
Antoinette
Nowak
,
she
figured
in
that
braided
symphony
of
mere
sex
attraction
which
somehow
makes
up
that
geometric
formula
of
beauty
which
rules
the
world
.
She
was
charming
in
a
dark
way
,
beautiful
,
with
eyes
that
burned
with
an
unsatisfied
fire
;
and
Cowperwood
,
although
at
first
only
in
the
least
moved
by
her
,
became
by
degrees
interested
in
her
,
wondering
at
the
amazing
,
transforming
power
of
the
American
atmosphere
.
"
Are
your
parents
English
,
Antoinette
?
"
he
asked
her
,
one
morning
,
with
that
easy
familiarity
which
he
assumed
to
all
underlings
and
minor
intellects
--
an
air
that
could
not
be
resented
in
him
,
and
which
was
usually
accepted
as
a
compliment
.
Antoinette
,
clean
and
fresh
in
a
white
shirtwaist
,
a
black
walking-skirt
,
a
ribbon
of
black
velvet
about
her
neck
,
and
her
long
,
black
hair
laid
in
a
heavy
braid
low
over
her
forehead
and
held
close
by
a
white
celluloid
comb
,
looked
at
him
with
pleased
and
grateful
eyes
.
She
had
been
used
to
such
different
types
of
men
--
the
earnest
,
fiery
,
excitable
,
sometimes
drunken
and
swearing
men
of
her
childhood
,
always
striking
,
marching
,
praying
in
the
Catholic
churches
;
and
then
the
men
of
the
business
world
,
crazy
over
money
,
and
with
no
understanding
of
anything
save
some
few
facts
about
Chicago
and
its
momentary
possibilities
.
In
Cowperwood
's
office
,
taking
his
letters
and
hearing
him
talk
in
his
quick
,
genial
way
with
old
Laughlin
,
Sippens
,
and
others
,
she
had
learned
more
of
life
than
she
had
ever
dreamed
existed
.
He
was
like
a
vast
open
window
out
of
which
she
was
looking
upon
an
almost
illimitable
landscape
.
"
No
,
sir
,
"
she
replied
,
dropping
her
slim
,
firm
,
white
hand
,
holding
a
black
lead-pencil
restfully
on
her
notebook
.
She
smiled
quite
innocently
because
she
was
pleased
.
"
I
thought
not
,
"
he
said
,
"
and
yet
you
're
American
enough
.
"
"
I
do
n't
know
how
it
is
,
"
she
said
,
quite
solemnly
.
"
I
have
a
brother
who
is
quite
as
American
as
I
am
.
We
do
n't
either
of
us
look
like
our
father
or
mother
.
"
"
What
does
your
brother
do
?
"
he
asked
,
indifferently
.
