“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 her—her 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 change—we 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.”