His hand stole to her cheek and fondled it. He petted her shoulder, and she leaned her head against him. “Sweet, you’re so beautiful,” he said finally, “I can’t give you up. I know what I ought to do. You know, too, I suppose; but I can’t. I must have you. If this should end in exposure, it would be quite bad for you and me. Do you understand?” “Yes.” “I don’t know your brothers very well; but from looking at them I judge they’re pretty determined people. They think a great deal of you.” “Indeed, they do.” Her vanity prinked slightly at this. “They would probably want to kill me, and very promptly, for just this much. What do you think they would want to do if—well, if anything should happen, some time?” He waited, watching her pretty face. “But nothing need happen. We needn’t go any further.” “Aileen!” “I won’t look at you. You needn’t ask. I can’t.” “Aileen! Do you mean that?” “I don’t know. Don’t ask me, Frank.” “You know it can’t stop this way, don’t you? You know it. This isn’t the end. Now, if—” He explained the whole theory of illicit meetings, calmly, dispassionately. “You are perfectly safe, except for one thing, chance exposure. It might just so happen; and then, of course, there would be a great deal to settle for. Mrs. Cowperwood would never give me a divorce; she has no reason to. If I should clean up in the way I hope to—if I should make a million—I wouldn’t mind knocking off now. I don’t expect to work all my days. I have always planned to knock off at thirty-five. I’ll have enough by that time. Then I want to travel. It will only be a few more years now. If you were free—if your father and mother were dead”—curiously she did not wince at this practical reference—“it would be a different matter.” He paused. She still gazed thoughtfully at the water below, her mind running out to a yacht on the sea with him, a palace somewhere—just they two. Her eyes, half closed, saw this happy world; and, listening to him, she was fascinated. “Hanged if I see the way out of this, exactly. But I love you!” He caught her to him. “I love you—love you!” “Oh, yes,” she replied intensely, “I want you to. I’m not afraid.” “I’ve taken a house in North Tenth Street,” he said finally, as they walked over to the horses and mounted them. “It isn’t furnished yet; but it will be soon. I know a woman who will take charge.” “Who is she?” “An interesting widow of nearly fifty. Very intelligent—she is attractive, and knows a good deal of life. I found her through an advertisement. You might call on her some afternoon when things are arranged, and look the place over. You needn’t meet her except in a casual way. Will you?” She rode on, thinking, making no reply. He was so direct and practical in his calculations. “Will you? It will be all right. You might know her. She isn’t objectionable in any way. Will you?” “Let me know when it is ready,” was all she said finally. Chapter XXI