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Unfortunately for Aileen； the matter was not to be allowed to rest just so； for going one afternoon to a reception given by Rhees Crier； a young sculptor of social proclivities； who had been introduced to her by Taylor Lord； she was given a taste of what it means to be a neglected wife from a public point of view。 As she entered on this occasion she happened to overhear two women talking in a corner behind a screen erected to conceal wraps。 〃Oh； here comes Mrs。 Cowperwood；〃 said one。 〃She's the street…railway magnate's wife。 Last winter and spring he was running with that Platow girlof the Garrick Players； you know。〃
The other nodded； studying Aileen's splendiferous greenvelvet gown with envy。
〃I wonder if she's faithful to him？〃 she queried； while Aileen strained to hear。 〃She looks daring enough。〃
Aileen managed to catch a glimpse of her observers later； when they were not looking； and her face showed her mingled resentment and feeling； but it did no good。 The wretched gossipers had wounded her in the keenest way。 She was hurt； angry； nonplussed。 To think that Cowperwood by his variability should expose her to such gossip as this！
One day not so long after her conversation with Mrs。 Platow； Aileen happened to be standing outside the door of her own boudoir； the landing of which commanded the lower hall； and there overheard two of her servants discussing the Cowperwood menage in particular and Chicago life in general。 One was a tall； angular girl of perhaps twenty…seven or eight； a chambermaid； the other a short； stout woman of forty who held the position of assistant housekeeper。 They were pretending to dust； though gossip conducted in a whisper was the matter for which they were foregathered。 The tall girl had recently been employed in the family of Aymar Cochrane； the former president of the Chicago West Division Railway； and now a director of the new West Chicago Street Railway Company。
〃And I was that surprised；〃 Aileen heard this girl saying； 〃to think I should be coming here。 I cud scarcely believe me ears when they told me。 Why； Miss Florence was runnin' out to meet him two and three times in the week。 The wonder to me was that her mother never guessed。〃
Och；〃 replied the other； 〃he's the very divil and all when it comes to the wimmin。〃 （Aileen did not see the upward lift of the hand that accompanied this）。 〃There was a little girl that used to come here。 Her father lives up the street here。 Haguenin is his name。 He owns that morning paper； the Press； and has a fine house up the street here a little way。 Well； I haven't seen her very often of late； but more than once I saw him kissing her in this very room。 Sure his wife knows all about it。 Depend on it。 She had an awful fight with some woman here onct； so I hear； some woman that he was runnin' with and bringin' here to the house。 I hear it's somethin' terrible the way she beat her upscreamin' and carryin' on。 Oh； they're the divil； these men； when it comes to the wimmin。〃
A slight rustling sound from somewhere sent the two gossipers on their several ways； but Aileen had heard enough to understand。 What was she to do？ How was she to learn more of these new women； of whom she had never heard at all？ She at once suspected Florence Cochrane； for she knew that this servant had worked in the Cochrane family。 And then Cecily Haguenin； the daughter of the editor with whom they were on the friendliest terms！ Cowperwood kissing her！ Was there no end to his liaisonshis infidelity？
She returned； fretting and grieving； to her room； where she meditated and meditated； wondering whether she should leave him； wondering whether she should reproach him openly； wondering whether she should employ more detectives。 What good would it do？ She had employed detectives once。 Had it prevented the Stephanie Platow incident？ Not at all。 Would it prevent other liaisons in the future？ Very likely not。 Obviously her home life with Cowperwood was coming to a complete and disastrous end。 Things could not go on in this way。 She had done wrong； possibly； in taking him away from Mrs。 Cowperwood number one； though she could scarcely believe that； for Mrs。 Lillian Cowperwood was so unsuited to himbut this repayment！ If she had been at all superstitious or religious； and had known her Bible； which she didn't； she might have quoted to herself that very fatalistic statement of the New Testament； 〃With what measure ye mete it shall be measured unto you again。〃
The truth was that Cowperwood's continued propensity to rove at liberty among the fair sex could not in the long run fail of some results of an unsatisfactory character。 Coincident with the disappearance of Stephanie Platow； he launched upon a variety of episodes； the charming daughter of so worthy a man as Editor Haguenin； his sincerest and most sympathetic journalistic supporter； and the daughter of Aymar Cochrane； falling victims； among others； to what many would have called his wiles。 As a matter of fact； in most cases he was as much sinned against as sinning； since the provocation was as much offered as given。
The manner in which he came to get in with Cecily Haguenin was simple enough。 Being an old friend of the family； and a frequent visitor at her father's house； he found this particular daughter of desire an easy victim。 She was a vigorous blonde creature of twenty at this time； very full and plump； with large； violet eyes； and with considerable alertness of minda sort of doll girl with whom Cowperwood found it pleasant to amuse himself。 A playful gamboling relationship had existed between them when she was a mere child attending school； and had continued through her college years whenever she happened to be at home on a vacation。 In these very latest days when Cowperwood on occasion sat in the Haguenin library consulting with the journalist…publisher concerning certain moves which he wished to have put right before the public he saw considerably more of Cecily。 One night； when her father had gone out to look up the previous action of the city council in connection with some matter of franchises； a series of more or less sympathetic and understanding glances suddenly culminated in Cecily's playfully waving a new novel； which she happened to have in her hand； in Cowperwood's face； and he； in reply； laid hold caressingly of her arms。
〃You can't stop me so easily；〃 she observed； banteringly。
〃Oh yes； I can；〃 he replied。
A slight struggle ensued； in which he； with her semiwilful connivance； managed to manoeuver her into his arms； her head backward against his shoulder。
〃Well；〃 she said； looking up at him with a semi…nervous； semi…provocative glance； 〃now what？ You'll just have to let me go。〃
〃Not very soon； though。〃
〃Oh yes； you will。 My father will be here in a moment。〃
〃Well； not until then； anyhow。 You're getting to be the sweetest girl。〃
She did not resist； but remained gazing half nervously； half dreamily at him； whereupon he smoothed her cheek； and then kissed her。 Her father's returning step put an end to this； but from this point on ascent or descent to a perfect understanding was easily made。
In the matter of Florence Cochrane； the daughter of