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It was pointed out through Schryhart's Chronicle, through Hyssop's and Merrill's papers, and through the Inquirer that such a situation was intolerable. If the dominant party, at the behest of so sinister an influence as Cowperwood, was to tie up all outside traction legislation, there could be but one thing left an appeal to the voters of the city to turn the rascals out.
There were several pictures on the wall an impossible oil painting, for one thing, dark and gloomy; a canal and barge scene in pink and nile green for another; some daguerreotypes of relatives and friends which were not half bad. Cowperwood noticed one of two girls, one with reddish-gold hair, another with what appeared to be silky brown.
Cowperwood felt clearly that it must be Aileen, that he must know or suspect something. He must pretend business hurry and end this. "I'm sorry. I thought I might get an extension; but that's all right. I can get the money, though. I'll send it right over." He turned and walked quickly to the door. Butler got up. He had thought to manage this differently.
Cowperwood saw one elevated road, the South Side Alley Line, being built, and another, the West Side Metropolitan Line, being proposed, largely, as he knew, in order to create sentiment for the idea, and so to make his opposition to a general franchise difficult. He was well aware that if he did not choose to build them others would.
It did not make the slightest difference, as Cowperwood had sarcastically pointed out, that every other corporation of any significance in Chicago had asked and received without money and without price.
He scarcely knew what it would be; but this that he had designed for Cowperwood and his father was at least different, as he said, while at the same time being reserved, simple, and pleasing. It was in marked contrast to the rest of the architecture of the street.
Yes, religion dictated that, also custom. There were the children. They must not be injured. Frank must be reclaimed, if possible. He would get over this. But what a blow! The suspension of the banking house of Frank A. Cowperwood & Co. created a great stir on 'change and in Philadelphia generally. It was so unexpected, and the amount involved was comparatively so large.
He was forty-five years of age, of medium height, fairly thick-set, not at all unprepossessing, and rather intelligent and active, but not too forceful and pushing in spirit. He really needed a man like Cowperwood to make him into something, if ever he was to be made. He had a seat on 'change, and was well thought of; respected, but not so very prosperous.
Cowperwood retired to the hall to hang up his overcoat and came back smiling. "Isn't Mrs. Cowperwood about?" "The butler says she's out calling, but I thought I'd wait a little while, anyhow. She may come back." She turned up a dark, smiling face to him, with languishing, inscrutable eyes, and he recognized the artist at last, full and clear. "I see you like my bracelet, don't you?"
Barring his comparatively recent experience in the county jail, which after all was far from typical, Cowperwood had never been in a prison in his life.
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