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Why, Miss Florence was runnin' out to meet him two and three times in the week. The wonder to me was that her mother never guessed." "Och," replied the other, "he's the very divil and all when it comes to the wimmin." "There was a little girl that used to come here. Her father lives up the street here. Haguenin is his name.
Haguenin," said Cowperwood, smilingly he was arrayed in a heavy fur coat, with a collar of beaver and driving-gauntlets of dogskin "we have reached the place in this street-railway problem on the North Side where we are going to require the assistance of the newspapers, or at least their friendly support.
For instance, going one day to call on the Haguenins for she was perfectly willing to keep up the pretense of amity in so long as they had not found out the truth she was informed that Mrs. Haguenin was "not at home." Shortly thereafter the Press, which had always been favorable to Cowperwood, and which Aileen regularly read because of its friendly comment, suddenly veered and began to attack him.
Haguenin, vaguely. "That is true. But this tunnel, now do you think that should fall in the same category of public beneficences?" At the same time he could not help thinking, as he looked at the proposed loop indicated on the map, that the new cable line, with its string of trailers, would give down-town Chicago a truly metropolitan air and would provide a splendid outlet for the North Side.
And such silly snips as they were Stephanie Platow! and Cecily Haguenin! and Florence Cochrane, in all likelihood another pasty-faced beginner!
There is no reason why the citizens of the North Side shouldn't have as comfortable an access to the business heart as those of the West or South Side." "None in the world," Mr. Haguenin was compelled to admit. "Are you satisfied, however, that the council and the city should sanction the gift of a loop of this kind without some form of compensation?"
He drove to the publisher's office in the Press Building, and was greeted by a grave and almost despondent man. "Mr. Cowperwood," began Haguenin, when the financier entered, smart and trig, his usual air of genial sufficiency written all over him, "I have known you now for something like fourteen years, and during this time I have shown you nothing but courtesy and good will.
He could not assume her as he had Ella Hubby, or Florence Cochrane, or Cecily Haguenin. Here was an iron individuality with a soul for romance and art and philosophy and life. He could not take her as he had those others. And yet Berenice was really beginning to think more than a little about Cowperwood.
I presume that you have no children of your own, or that if you have you lack the parental instinct; otherwise you could not have injured me in this fashion. I believe that you will live to see that this policy does not pay in Chicago or anywhere else." Haguenin turned slowly on his heel toward his desk.
Haguenin, of the Press, is all right and friendly to you, as I understand. Other things being equal, I think he'd naturally support you in anything he thought was fair and reasonable. Well, there you have them. Get them all on your side if you can. Don't ask for the LaSalle Street tunnel right away. Let it come as an afterthought a great public need.
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