Sex interest in all strong men usually endures unto the end, governed sometimes by a stoic resignation. The experiment of such attraction can, as they well know, be made over and over, but to what end? For many it becomes too troublesome. Yet the presence of so glittering a spectacle as Aileen on this night touched Mr. Rambaud with an ancient ambition. He looked at her almost sadly. Once he was much younger. But alas, he had never attracted the flaming interest of any such woman. As he studied her now he wished that he might have enjoyed such good fortune. In contrast with Aileen’s orchid glow and tinted richness Mrs. Rambaud’s simple gray silk, the collar of which came almost to her ears, was disturbing—almost reproving—but Mrs. Rambaud’s ladylike courtesy and generosity made everything all right. She came out of intellectual New England—the Emerson-Thoreau-Channing Phillips school of philosophy—and was broadly tolerant. As a matter of fact, she liked Aileen and all the Orient richness she represented. “Such a sweet little house this is,” she said, smilingly. “We’ve noticed it often. We’re not so far removed from you but what we might be called neighbors.” Aileen’s eyes spoke appreciation. Although she could not fully grasp Mrs. Rambaud, she understood her, in a way, and liked her. She was probably something like her own mother would have been if the latter had been highly educated. While they were moving into the reception-room Taylor Lord was announced. Cowperwood took his hand and brought him forward to the others. “Mrs. Cowperwood,” said Lord, admiringly—a tall, rugged, thoughtful person—“let me be one of many to welcome you to Chicago. After Philadelphia you will find some things to desire at first, but we all come to like it eventually.” “Oh, I’m sure I shall,” smiled Aileen. “I lived in Philadelphia years ago, but only for a little while,” added Lord. “I left there to come here.” The observation gave Aileen the least pause, but she passed it over lightly. This sort of accidental reference she must learn to expect; there might be much worse bridges to cross. “I find Chicago all right,” she replied, briskly. “There’s nothing the matter with it. It has more snap than Philadelphia ever had.” “I’m glad to hear you say that. I like it so much. Perhaps it’s because I find such interesting things to do here.” He was admiring the splendor of her arms and hair. What need had beautiful woman to be intellectual, anyhow, he was saying to himself, sensing that Aileen might be deficient in ultimate refinement.