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Updated: May 18, 2025
Here she had fought with Rita Sohlberg; here she had seen society come for a very little while only to disappear; here she had waited this long time for the renewal of Cowperwood's love, which was now obviously never to be restored in its original glamour. As he spoke she looked at him quizzically, almost sadly in her great doubt.
As he bounded upward a clear sense of something untoward came over him; it was sickening, terrifying. Scream! Scream! Scream! came the sounds. "Oh, my God! don't kill me! Help! Help!" SCREAM this last a long, terrified, ear-piercing wail. Sohlberg was about to drop from heart failure, he was so frightened. His face was an ashen gray.
Sohlberg could never earn it for her." Aileen sympathized with Harold because of his temperament, but she knew that what Cowperwood said was true. Another time, at a box-party at the theater, she had noted the rich elaborateness of Mrs.
I saw him on the street the other day with one of his students rather a pretty girl, too." Cowperwood was pleased. Under the circumstances he would almost have been willing not quite for Aileen to succumb to Sohlberg in order to entrap her and make his situation secure. Yet he really did not wish it in the last analysis would have been grieved temporarily if she had deserted him.
"I'm so glad you brought your violin," Aileen was saying to Harold, who was in another corner. "I've been looking forward to your coming to play for us." "Very nize ov you, I'm sure," Sohlberg replied, with his sweety drawl. "Such a nize plaze you have here all these loafly books, and jade, and glass." He had an unctuous, yielding way which was charming, Aileen thought.
You would have had to know Harold Sohlberg only a little while to appreciate that he belonged to this order of artists.
Rita Sohlberg had been growing on Aileen as a personage, for she had obviously been prospering during this past year, and her beauty had been amazingly enhanced thereby. Once Aileen had encountered Rita in a light trap on the Avenue, very handsome and very new, and she had commented on it to Cowperwood, whose reply had been: "Her father must be making some money.
"He was, in his way," smiled Cowperwood, who had had an outline of his life, and that of his father, Pope Alexander VI., furnished him at the time of the purchase. Only so recently had his interest in Caesar Borgia begun. Mrs. Sohlberg scarcely gathered the sly humor of it. "Oh yes, and here is Mrs. Cowperwood," she commented, turning to the painting by Van Beers.
The previous affairs had been emotional makeshifts at best more or less idle philanderings in which his deeper moods and feelings were not concerned. In the case of Mrs. Sohlberg all this was changed. For the present at least she was really all in all to him.
She's up-stairs in your wife's room! Something must have happened. Oh " On the instant he was quite beside himself, terrified, shaking, almost useless. Cowperwood, on the contrary, without a moment's hesitation had thrown his coat to the floor, dashed up the stairs, followed by Sohlberg. What could it be? Where was Aileen?
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