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THE TITAN
Hand, a placid man, looked at the securities peacefully. «What’s
the matter with your own bank?» He was referring to the Chicago
Trust Company. «Can’t it take care of them for you?»
«Loaded up with other things just now», smiled Cowperwood,
ingratiatingly.
«Well, if I can believe all the papers say, you’re going to wreck
these roads or Chicago or yourself; but I don’t live by the papers.
How long would you want it for?»
«Six months, perhaps. A year, if you choose».
Hand turned over the securities, eying their gold seals. «Five
hundred thousand dollars’ worth of six per cent. West Chicago preferred», he commented. «Are you earning six per cent.?»
«We’re earning eight right now. You’ll live to see the day when
these shares will sell at two hundred dollars and pay twelve per
cent. at that».
«And you’ve quadrupled the issue of the old company? Well,
Chicago’s growing. Leave them here until to-morrow or bring them
back. Send over or call me, and I’ll tell you».
They talked for a little while on street-railway and corporation
matters. Hand wanted to know something concerning West Chicago land — a region adjoining Ravenswood. Cowperwood gave him
his best advice.
The next day he ’phoned, and the stocks, so Hand informed
him, were available. He would send a check over. So thus a tentative
friendship began, and it lasted until the relationship between Cowperwood and Mrs. Hand was consummated and discovered.
In Caroline Barrett, as she occasionally preferred to sign herself,
Cowperwood encountered a woman who was as restless and fi ckle
as himself, but not so shrewd. Socially ambitious, she was anything
but socially conventional, and she did not care for Hand. Once married, she had planned to repay herself in part by a very gay existence.
The affair between her and Cowperwood had begun at a dinner at
the magnifi cent residence of Hand on the North Shore Drive overlooking the lake. Cowperwood had gone to talk over with her hus-
271
THEODORE DREISER
band various Chicago matters. Mrs. Hand was excited by his risque
reputation. A little woman in stature, with intensely white teeth,
red lips which she did not hesitate to rouge on occasion, brown hair,
and small brown eyes which had a gay, searching, defi ant twinkle in
them, she did her best to be interesting, clever, witty, and she was.
«I know Frank Cowperwood by reputation, anyhow», she exclaimed, holding out a small, white, jeweled hand, the nails of
which at their juncture with the fl esh were tinged with henna, and
the palms of which were slightly rouged. Her eyes blazed, and her
teeth gleamed. «One can scarcely read of anything else in the Chicago papers».
Cowperwood returned his most winning beam. «I’m delighted
to meet you, Mrs. Hand. I have read of you, too. But I hope you don’t
believe all the papers say about me».
«And if I did it wouldn’t hurt you in my estimation. To do is to
be talked about in these days».
Cowperwood, because of his desire to employ the services of
Hand, was at his best. He kept the conversation within conventional
lines; but all the while he was exchanging secret, unobserved smiles
with Mrs. Hand, whom he realized at once had married Hand for
his money, and was bent, under a somewhat jealous espionage, to
have a good time anyhow. There is a kind of eagerness that goes with
those who are watched and wish to escape that gives them a gay,
electric awareness and sparkle in the presence of an opportunity for
release. Mrs. Hand had this. Cowperwood, a past master in this matter of femininity, studied her hands, her hair, her eyes, her smile.
After some contemplation he decided, other things being equal, that
Mrs. Hand would do, and that he could be interested if she were very
much interested in him. Her telling eyes and smiles, the heightened
color of her cheeks indicated after a time that she was.
Meeting him on the street one day not long after they had fi rst
met, she told him that she was going for a visit to friends at Oconomowoc, in Wisconsin.
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THE TITAN
«I don’t suppose you ever get up that far north in summer, do
you?» she asked, with an air, and smiled.
«I never have», he replied; «but there’s no telling what I might
do if I were bantered. I suppose you ride and canoe?»
«Oh yes; and play tennis and golf, too».
«But where would a mere idler like me stay?»
«Oh, there are several good hotels. There’s never any trouble
about that. I suppose you ride yourself?»
«After a fashion», replied Cowperwood, who was an expert.
Witness then the casual encounter on horseback, early one Sunday morning in the painted hills of Wisconsin, of Frank Algernon
Cowperwood and Caroline Hand. A jaunty, racing canter, side by
side; idle talk concerning people, scenery, conveniences; his usual
direct suggestions and love-making, and then, subsequently —
The day of reckoning, if such it might be called, came later.
Caroline Hand was, perhaps, unduly reckless. She admired Cowperwood greatly without really loving him. He found her interesting, principally because she was young, debonair, suffi cient — a
new type. They met in Chicago after a time instead of in Wisconsin,
then in Detroit (where she had friends), then in Rockford, where
a sister had gone to live. It was easy for him with his time and means.
Finally, Duane Kingsland, wholesale fl our merchant, religious,
moral, conventional, who knew Cowperwood and his repute, encountered Mrs. Hand and Cowperwood fi rst near Oconomowoc one
summer’s day, and later in Randolph Street, near Cowperwood’s
bachelor rooms. Being the man that he was and knowing old Hand
well, he thought it was his duty to ask the latter if his wife knew
Cowperwood intimately. There was an explosion in the Hand home.
Mrs. Hand, when confronted by her husband, denied, of course, that
there was anything wrong between her and Cowperwood. Her elderly husband, from a certain telltale excitement and resentment in
her manner, did not believe this. He thought once of confronting
Cowperwood; but, being heavy and practical, he fi nally decided to
sever all business relationships with him and fi ght him in other
273
THEODORE DREISER
ways. Mrs. Hand was watched very closely, and a suborned maid discovered an old note she had written to Cowperwood. An attempt
to persuade her to leave for Europe — as old Butler had once attempted to send Aileen years before — raised a storm of protest, but
she went. Hand, from being neutral if not friendly, became quite
the most dangerous and forceful of all Cowperwood’s Chicago enemies. He was a powerful man. His wrath was boundless. He looked
upon Cowperwood now as a dark and dangerous man — one of
whom Chicago would be well rid.
CHAPTER XXXII
A SUPPER PARTY
Since the days in which Aileen had been left more or less lonely by
Cowperwood, however, no two individuals had been more faithful in
their attentions than Taylor Lord and Kent McKibben. Both were
fond of her in a general way, fi nding her interesting physically and
temperamentally; but, being beholden to the magnate for many favors, they were exceedingly circumspect in their attitude toward her,
particularly during those early years in which they knew that Cowperwood was intensely devoted to her. Later they were not so careful.
It was during this latter period that Aileen came gradually,
through the agency of these two men, to share in a form of mid-world
life that was not utterly dull. In every large city there is a kind of
social half world, where artists and the more adventurous of the socially unconventional and restless meet for an exchange of things
which cannot be counted mere social form and civility. It is the ageold world of Bohemia. Hither resort those «accidentals» of fancy
that make the stage, the drawing-room, and all the schools of artistic
endeavor interesting or peculiar. In a number of studios in Chicago
such as those of Lane Cross and Rhees Crier, such little circles were
to be found. Rhees Crier, for instance, a purely parlor artist, with all
the airs, conventions, and social adaptability of the tribe, had quite
a following. Here and to several other places by turns Taylor Lord
and Kent McKibben conducted Aileen, both asking and obtaining
permission to be civil to her when Cowperwood was away.
275
THEODORE DREISER
Among the friends of these two at this time was a certain Polk
Lynde, an interesting society fi gure, whose father owned an immense reaper works, and whose time was spent in idling, racing,
gambling, socializing — anything, in short, that it came into his head
to do. He was tall, dark, athletic, straight, muscular, with a small
dark mustache, dark, black-brown eyes, kinky black hair, and a fi ne,
almost military carriage — which he clothed always to the best advantage. A clever philanderer, it was quite his pride that he did not
boast of his conquests. One look at him, however, by the initiated,
and the story was told. Aileen fi rst saw him on a visit to the studio of
Rhees Grier. Being introduced to him very casually on this occasion, she was nevertheless clearly conscious that she was encountering a fascinating man, and that he was fi xing her with a warm,
avid eye. For the moment she recoiled from him as being a little too
brazen in his stare, and yet she admired the general appearance of
him. He was of that smart world that she admired so much, and from
which now apparently she was hopelessly debarred. That trig, bold
air of his realized for her at last the type of man, outside of Cowperwood, whom she would prefer within limits to admire her. If she
were going to be «bad», as she would have phrased it to herself, she
would be «bad» with a man such as he. He would be winsome and
coaxing, but at the same time strong, direct, deliciously brutal, like
her Frank. He had, too, what Cowperwood could not have, a certain social air or swagger which came with idleness, much loafi ng,
a sense of social superiority and security — a devil-may-care insouciance which recks little of other people’s will or whims.
When she next saw him, which was several weeks later at an affair of the Courtney Tabors, friends of Lord’s, he exclaimed:
«Oh yes. By George! You’re the Mrs. Cowperwood I met several
weeks ago at Rhees Grier’s studio. I’ve not forgotten you. I’ve seen
you in my eye all over Chicago. Taylor Lord introduced me to you.
Say, but you’re a beautiful woman!»
He leaned ingratiatingly, whimsically, admiringly near.
276
THE TITAN
Aileen realized that for so early in the afternoon, and considering the crowd, he was curiously enthusiastic. The truth was that
because of some rounds he had made elsewhere he was verging toward too much liquor. His eye was alight, his color coppery, his air
swagger, devil-may-care, bacchanal. This made her a little cautious;
but she rather liked his brown, hard face, handsome mouth, and
crisp Jovian curls. His compliment was not utterly improper; but she
nevertheless attempted coyly to avoid him.
«Come, Polk, here’s an old friend of yours over here — Sadie
Boutwell — she wants to meet you again», some one observed, catching him by the arm.
«No, you don’t», he exclaimed, genially, and yet at the same time
a little resentfully — the kind of disjointed resentment a man who
has had the least bit too much is apt to feel on being interrupted.
«I’m not going to walk all over Chicago thinking of a woman I’ve
seen somewhere only to be carried away the fi rst time I do meet her.
I’m going to talk to her fi rst».
Aileen laughed. «It’s charming of you, but we can meet again,
perhaps. Besides, there’s some one here» — Lord was tactfully directing her attention to another woman. Rhees Grier and McKibben, who were present also, came to her assistance. In the hubbub
that ensued Aileen was temporarily extricated and Lynde tactfully
steered out of her way. But they had met again, and it was not to
be the last time. Subsequent to this second meeting, Lynde thought
the matter over quite calmly, and decided that he must make a defi nite effort to become more intimate with Aileen. Though she was not
as young as some others, she suited his present mood exactly. She was
rich physically — voluptuous and sentient. She was not of his world
precisely, but what of it? She was the wife of an eminent fi nancier,
who had been in society once, and she herself had a dramatic record.
He was sure of that. He could win her if he wanted to. It would be
easy, knowing her as he did, and knowing what he did about her.
So not long after, Lynde ventured to invite her, with Lord, McKibben, Mr. and Mrs. Rhees Grier, and a young girl friend of Mrs. Gri-
277
THEODORE DREISER
er who was rather attractive, a Miss Chrystobel Lanman, to a theater
and supper party. The programme was to hear a reigning farce at
Hooley’s, then to sup at the Richelieu, and fi nally to visit a certain
exclusive gambling-parlor which then fl ourished on the South
Side — the resort of actors, society gamblers, and the like — where
roulette, trente-et-quarante, baccarat, and the honest game of poker,
to say nothing of various other games of chance, could be played
amid exceedingly recherche surroundings.
The party was gay, especially after the adjournment to the Richelieu, where special dishes of chicken, lobster, and a bucket of champagne were served. Later at the Alcott Club, as the gambling resort
was known, Aileen, according to Lynde, was to be taught to play
baccarat, poker, and any other game that she wished. «You follow
my advice, Mrs. Cowperwood», he observed, cheerfully, at dinner —
being host, he had put her between himself and McKibben —»and
I’ll show you how to get your money back anyhow. That’s more than
some others can do», he added, spiritedly, recalling by a look a recent
occasion when he and McKibben, being out with friends, the latter
had advised liberally and had seen his advice go wrong.
«Have you been gambling, Kent?» asked Aileen, archly, turning
to her long-time social mentor and friend.
«No, I can honestly say I haven’t», replied McKibben, with
a bland smile. «I may have thought I was gambling, but I admit
I don’t know how. Now Polk, here, wins all the time, don’t you, Polk?
Just follow him».
A wry smile spread over Lynde’s face at this, for it was on record in certain circles that he had lost as much as ten and even
fi fteen thousand in an evening. He also had a record of winning
twenty-fi ve thousand once at baccarat at an all-night and all-day
sitting, and then losing it.
Lynde all through the evening had been casting hard, meaning
glances into Aileen’s eyes. She could not avoid this, and she did not
feel that she wanted to. He was so charming. He was talking to her
half the time at the theater, without apparently addressing or even
278
THE TITAN
seeing her. Aileen knew well enough what was in his mind. At times,
quite as in those days when she had fi rst met Cowperwood, she felt
an unwilled titillation in her blood. Her eyes brightened. It was just
possible that she could come to love a man like this, although it
would be hard. It would serve Cowperwood right for neglecting her.
Yet even now the shadow of Cowperwood was over her, but also
the desire for love and a full sex life.
In the gambling-rooms was gathered an interested and fairly
smart throng — actors, actresses, clubmen, one or two very emancipated women of the high local social world, and a number of more
or less gentlemanly young gamblers. Both Lord and McKibben began suggesting column numbers for fi rst plays to their proteges,
while Lynde leaned caressingly over Aileen’s powdered shoulders.
«Let me put this on quatre premier for you», he suggested, throwing
down a twenty-dollar gold piece.
«Oh, but let it be my money», complained Aileen. «I want to play
with my money. I won’t feel that it’s mine if I don’t».
«Very well, but you can’t just now. You can’t play with bills».
She was extracting a crisp roll from her purse. «I’ll have to exchange
them later for you for gold. You can pay me then. He’s going to call
now, anyhow. There you are. He’s done it. Wait a moment. You may
win». And he paused to study the little ball as it circled round and
round above the receiving pockets.
«Let me see. How much do I get if I win quatre premier?» She was
trying to recall her experiences abroad.
«Ten for one», replied Lynde; «but you didn’t get it. Let’s try it once
more for luck. It comes up every so often — once in ten or twelve. I’ve
made it often on a fi rst play. How long has it been since the last quatre premier?» he asked of a neighbor whom he recognized.
«Seven, I think, Polk. Six or seven. How’s tricks?»
«Oh, so so». He turned again to Aileen. «It ought to come up now
soon. I always make it a rule to double my plays each time. It gets you
back all you’ve lost, some time or other». He put down two twenties.
279
THEODORE DREISER
«Goodness», she exclaimed, «that will be two hundred! I had forgotten that».
Just then the call came for all placements to cease, and Aileen
directed her attention to the ball. It circled and circled in its dizzy
way and then suddenly dropped.
«Lost again», commented Lynde. «Well, now we’ll make it
eighty», and he threw down four twenties. «Just for luck we’ll put
something on thirty-six, and thirteen, and nine». With an easy air
he laid one hundred dollars in gold on each number.
Aileen liked his manner. This was like Frank. Lynde had the cool
spirit of a plunger. His father, recognizing his temperament, had set
over a large fi xed sum to be paid to him annually. She recognized,
as in Cowperwood, the spirit of adventure, only working out in another way. Lynde was perhaps destined to come to some startlingly
reckless end, but what of it? He was a gentleman. His position in life
was secure. That had always been Aileen’s sad, secret thought. Hers
had not been and might never be now.
«Oh, I’m getting foozled already», she exclaimed, gaily reverting
to a girlhood habit of clapping her hands. «How much will I win if
I win?» The gesture attracted attention even as the ball fell.
«By George, you have it!» exclaimed Lynde, who was watching
the croupier. «Eight hundred, two hundred, two hundred» — he was
counting to himself —»but we lose thirteen. Very good, that makes
us nearly one thousand ahead, counting out what we put down.
Rather nice for a beginning, don’t you think? Now, if you’ll take my
advice you’ll not play quatre premier any more for a while. Suppose
you double a thirteen — you lost on that — and play Bates’s formula.
I’ll show you what that is».
Already, because he was known to be a plunger, Lynde was
gathering a few spectators behind him, and Aileen, fascinated, and
not knowing these mysteries of chance, was content to watch him.
At one stage of the playing Lynde leaned over and, seeing her smile,
whispered:
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