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Another
time
,
at
a
box-party
at
the
theater
,
she
had
noted
the
rich
elaborateness
of
Mrs.
Sohlberg
's
dainty
frock
,
the
endless
pleatings
of
pale
silk
,
the
startling
charm
of
the
needlework
and
the
ribbons
--
countless
,
rosetted
,
small
--
that
meant
hard
work
on
the
part
of
some
one
.
"
How
lovely
this
is
,
"
she
had
commented
.
"
Yes
,
"
Rita
had
replied
,
airily
;
"
I
thought
,
do
n't
you
know
,
my
dressmaker
would
never
get
done
working
on
it
.
"
It
had
cost
,
all
told
,
two
hundred
and
twenty
dollars
,
and
Cowperwood
had
gladly
paid
the
bill
.
Aileen
went
home
at
the
time
thinking
of
Rita
's
taste
and
of
how
well
she
had
harmonized
her
materials
to
her
personality
.
She
was
truly
charming
.
Now
,
however
,
when
it
appeared
that
the
same
charm
that
had
appealed
to
her
had
appealed
to
Cowperwood
,
she
conceived
an
angry
,
animal
opposition
to
it
all
.
Rita
Sohlberg
!
Ha
!
A
lot
of
satisfaction
she
'd
get
knowing
as
she
would
soon
,
that
Cowperwood
was
sharing
his
affection
for
her
with
Antoinette
Nowak
--
a
mere
stenographer
.
And
a
lot
of
satisfaction
Antoinette
would
get
--
the
cheap
upstart
--
when
she
learned
,
as
she
would
,
that
Cowperwood
loved
her
so
lightly
that
he
would
take
an
apartment
for
Rita
Sohlberg
and
let
a
cheap
hotel
or
an
assignation-house
do
for
her
.
But
in
spite
of
this
savage
exultation
her
thoughts
kept
coming
back
to
herself
,
to
her
own
predicament
,
to
torture
and
destroy
her
.
Cowperwood
,
the
liar
!
Cowperwood
,
the
pretender
!
Cowperwood
,
the
sneak
!
At
one
moment
she
conceived
a
kind
of
horror
of
the
man
because
of
all
his
protestations
to
her
;
at
the
next
a
rage
--
bitter
,
swelling
;
at
the
next
a
pathetic
realization
of
her
own
altered
position
.
Say
what
one
will
,
to
take
the
love
of
a
man
like
Cowperwood
away
from
a
woman
like
Aileen
was
to
leave
her
high
and
dry
on
land
,
as
a
fish
out
of
its
native
element
,
to
take
all
the
wind
out
of
her
sails
--
almost
to
kill
her
.
Whatever
position
she
had
once
thought
to
hold
through
him
,
was
now
jeopardized
.
Whatever
joy
or
glory
she
had
had
in
being
Mrs.
Frank
Algernon
Cowperwood
,
it
was
now
tarnished
.
She
sat
in
her
room
,
this
same
day
after
the
detectives
had
given
their
report
,
a
tired
look
in
her
eyes
,
the
first
set
lines
her
pretty
mouth
had
ever
known
showing
about
it
,
her
past
and
her
future
whirling
painfully
and
nebulously
in
her
brain
.
Suddenly
she
got
up
,
and
,
seeing
Cowperwood
's
picture
on
her
dresser
,
his
still
impressive
eyes
contemplating
her
,
she
seized
it
and
threw
it
on
the
floor
,
stamping
on
his
handsome
face
with
her
pretty
foot
,
and
raging
at
him
in
her
heart
.
The
dog
!
The
brute
!
Her
brain
was
full
of
the
thought
of
Rita
's
white
arms
about
him
,
of
his
lips
to
hers
.
The
spectacle
of
Rita
's
fluffy
gowns
,
her
enticing
costumes
,
was
in
her
eyes
.
Rita
should
not
have
him
;
she
should
not
have
anything
connected
with
him
,
nor
,
for
that
matter
,
Antoinette
Nowak
,
either
--
the
wretched
upstart
,
the
hireling
.
To
think
he
should
stoop
to
an
office
stenographer
!
Once
on
that
thought
,
she
decided
that
he
should
not
be
allowed
to
have
a
woman
as
an
assistant
any
more
.
He
owed
it
to
her
to
love
her
after
all
she
had
done
for
him
,
the
coward
,
and
to
let
other
women
alone
.
Her
brain
whirled
with
strange
thoughts
.
She
was
really
not
sane
in
her
present
state
.
She
was
so
wrought
up
by
her
prospective
loss
that
she
could
only
think
of
rash
,
impossible
,
destructive
things
to
do
.
She
dressed
swiftly
,
feverishly
,
and
,
calling
a
closed
carriage
from
the
coach-house
,
ordered
herself
to
be
driven
to
the
New
Arts
Building
.
She
would
show
this
rosy
cat
of
a
woman
,
this
smiling
piece
of
impertinence
,
this
she-devil
,
whether
she
would
lure
Cowperwood
away
.
She
meditated
as
she
rode
.
She
would
not
sit
back
and
be
robbed
as
Mrs.
Cowperwood
had
been
by
her
.
Never
!
He
could
not
treat
her
that
way
.
She
would
die
first
!
She
would
kill
Rita
Sohlberg
and
Antoinette
Nowak
and
Cowperwood
and
herself
first
.
She
would
prefer
to
die
that
way
rather
than
lose
his
love
.
Oh
yes
,
a
thousand
times
!
Fortunately
,
Rita
Sohlberg
was
not
at
the
New
Arts
Building
,
or
Sohlberg
,
either
.
They
had
gone
to
a
reception
.
Nor
was
she
at
the
apartment
on
the
North
Side
,
where
,
under
the
name
of
Jacobs
,
as
Aileen
had
been
informed
by
the
detectives
,
she
and
Cowperwood
kept
occasional
tryst
.
Aileen
hesitated
for
a
moment
,
feeling
it
useless
to
wait
,
then
she
ordered
the
coachman
to
drive
to
her
husband
's
office
.
It
was
now
nearly
five
o'clock
.
Antoinette
and
Cowperwood
had
both
gone
,
but
she
did
not
know
it
.
She
changed
her
mind
,
however
,
before
she
reached
the
office
--
for
it
was
Rita
Sohlberg
she
wished
to
reach
first
--
and
ordered
her
coachman
to
drive
back
to
the
Sohlberg
studio
.
But
still
they
had
not
returned
.
In
a
kind
of
aimless
rage
she
went
home
,
wondering
how
she
should
reach
Rita
Sohlberg
first
and
alone
.
Then
,
to
her
savage
delight
,
the
game
walked
into
her
bag
.
The
Sohlbergs
,
returning
home
at
six
o'clock
from
some
reception
farther
out
Michigan
Avenue
,
had
stopped
,
at
the
wish
of
Harold
,
merely
to
pass
the
time
of
day
with
Mrs.
Cowperwood
.
Rita
was
exquisite
in
a
pale-blue
and
lavender
concoction
,
with
silver
braid
worked
in
here
and
there
.
Her
gloves
and
shoes
were
pungent
bits
of
romance
,
her
hat
a
dream
of
graceful
lines
.
At
the
sight
of
her
,
Aileen
,
who
was
still
in
the
hall
and
had
opened
the
door
herself
,
fairly
burned
to
seize
her
by
the
throat
and
strike
her
;
but
she
restrained
herself
sufficiently
to
say
,
"
Come
in
.
