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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 herher 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 wouldn't make any particular difference if I did。 I might as well drink as do some other things that are done。〃
It was a kind of satisfaction to her to bait him in this way。 His inquiry； being a proof of continued interest on his part； was of some value。 At least he was not entirely indifferent to her。
〃I wish you wouldn't talk that way； Aileen；〃 he replied。 〃I have no objection to your drinking some。 I don't suppose it makes any difference to you now whether I object or not。 But you are too good…looking； too well set up physically； to begin that。 You don't need it； and it's such a short road to hell。 Your state isn't so bad。 Good heavens！ many another woman has been in your position。 I'm not going to leave you unless you want to leave me。 I've told you that over and over。 I'm just sorry people changewe all do。 I suppose I've changed some； but that's no reason for your letting yourself go to pieces。 I wish you wouldn't be desperate about this business。 It may come out better than you think in the long run。〃
He was merely talking to console her。
〃Oh！ oh！ oh！〃 Aileen suddenly began to rock and cry in a foolish drunken way； as though her heart would break； and Cowperwood got up。 He was horrified after a fashion。
〃Oh； don't come near me！〃 Aileen suddenly exclaimed； sobering in an equally strange way。 〃I know why you come。 I know how much you care about me or my looks。 Don't you worry whether I drink or not。 I'll drink if I please； or do anything else if I choose。 If it helps me over my difficulties； that's my business； not yours；〃 and in defiance she prepared another glass and drank it。
Cowperwood shook his head； looking at her steadily and sorrowfully。 〃It's too bad； Aileen；〃 he said。 〃I don't know what to do about you exactly。 You oughtn't to go on this way。 Whisky won't get you anywhere。 It will simply ruin your looks and make you miserable in the bargain。〃
〃Oh； to hell with my looks！〃 she snapped。 〃A lot of good they've done me。〃 And； feeling contentious and sad； she got up and left the table。 Cowperwood followed her after a time； only to see her dabbing at her eyes and nose with powder。 A half…filled glass of whisky and water was on the dressing…table beside her。 It gave him a strange feeling of responsibility and helplessness。
Mingled with his anxiety as to Aileen were thoughts of the alternate rise and fall of his hopes in connection with Berenice。 She was such a superior girl； developing so definitely as an individual。 To his satisfaction she had； on a few recent occasions when he had seen her； unbent sufficiently to talk to him in a friendly and even intimate way； for she was by no means hoity…toity； but a thinking； reasoning being of the profoundest intellectual； or； rather； the highest artistic tendencies。 She was so care…free； living in a high and solitary world； at times apparently enwrapt in thoughts serene； at other times sharing vividly in the current interests of the social world of which she was a part； and which she dignified as much as it dignified her。
One Sunday morning at Pocono； in late June weather； when he had come East to rest for a few days； and all was still and airy on the high ground which the Carter cottage occupied； Berenice came out on the veranda where Cowperwood was sitting； reading a fiscal report of one of his companies and meditating on his affairs。 By now they had become somewhat more sympatica than formerly； and Berenice had an easy； genial way in his presence。 She liked him； rather。 With an indescribable smile which wrinkled her nose and eyes； and played about the corners of her mouth； she said： 〃Now I am going to catch a bird。〃
〃A what？〃 asked Cowperwood； looking up and pretending he had not heard； though he had。 He was all eyes for any movement of hers。 She was dressed in a flouncy morning gown eminently suitable for the world in which she was moving。
〃A bird；〃 she replied； with an airy toss of her head。 〃This is June…time； and the sparrows are teaching their young to fly。〃
Cowperwood； previously engrossed in financial speculations； was translated； as by the wave of a fairy wand； into another realm where birds and fledglings and grass and the light winds of heaven were more important than brick and stone and stocks and bonds。 He got up and followed her flowing steps across the grass to where； near a clump of alder bushes； she had seen a mother sparrow enticing a fledgling to take wing。 From her room upstairs； she had been watching this bit of outdoor sociology。 It suddenly came to Cowperwood； with great force； how comparatively unimportant in the great drift of life were his own affairs when about