was socially agreeable to her. Despite his Machiavellian profession,
she half believed him. He went over, tactfully, a score of
additional points. Finally, on the twenty-first visit, and with
seemingly great distress, he told her that her husband had decided
to break with her financially, to pay no more bills, and do nothing
until his responsibility had been fixed by the courts, and that
he, Steger, was about to retire from the case. Mrs. Cowperwood
felt that she must yield; she named her ultimatum. If he would
fix two hundred thousand dollars on her and the children (this was
Cowperwood's own suggestion) and later on do something commercially
for their only son, Frank, junior, she would let him go. She
disliked to do it. She knew that it meant the triumph of Aileen
Butler, such as it was. But, after all, that wretched creature
had been properly disgraced in Philadelphia. It was not likely
she could ever raise her head socially anywhere any more. She
agreed to file a plea which Steger would draw up for her, and by
that oily gentleman's machinations it was finally wormed through
the local court in the most secret manner imaginable. The merest
item in three of the Philadelphia papers some six weeks later
reported that a divorce had been granted. When Mrs. Cowperwood
read it she wondered greatly that so little attention had been
attracted by it. She had feared a much more extended comment.
She little knew the cat-like prowlings, legal and journalistic,
of her husband's interesting counsel. When Cowperwood read it on
one of his visits to Chicago he heaved a sigh of relief. At last
it was really true. Now he could make Aileen his wife. He
telegraphed her an enigmatic message of congratulation. When
Aileen read it she thrilled from head to foot. Now, shortly, she
would become the legal bride of Frank Algernon Cowperwood, the
newly enfranchised Chicago financier, and then--