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feeling he had--"to satisfy myself"-- when combined with his love of beauty and love and
women, still made him ruthless and thoughtless. Even now, the beauty and delight of a girl like
Aileen Butler were far more important to him than the good-will of fifty million people, if he could
evade the necessity of having their good-will. Previous to the Chicago fire and the panic, his
star had been so rapidly ascending that in the helter-skelter of great and favorable events he
had scarcely taken thought of the social significance of the thing he was doing. Youth and the
joy of life were in his blood. He felt so young, so vigorous, so like new grass looks and feels.
The freshness of spring evenings was in him, and he did not care. After the crash, when one
might have imagined he would have seen the wisdom of relinquishing Aileen for the time being,
anyhow, he did not care to. She represented the best of the wonderful days that had gone
before. She was a link between him and the past and a still-to-be triumphant future.
His worst anxiety was that if he were sent to the penitentiary, or adjudged a bankrupt, or both,
he would probably lose the privilege of a seat on 'change, and that would close to him the most
distinguished avenue of his prosperity here in Philadelphia for some time, if not forever. At
present, because of his complications, his seat had been attached as an asset, and he could
not act. Edward and Joseph, almost the only employees he could afford, were still acting for him
in a small way; but the other members on 'change naturally suspected his brothers as his
agents, and any talk that they might raise of going into business for themselves merely
indicated to other brokers and bankers that Cowperwood was contemplating some concealed
move which would not necessarily be advantageous to his creditors, and against the law
anyhow. Yet he must remain on 'change, whatever happened, potentially if not actively; and so
in his quick mental searchings he hit upon the idea that in order to forfend against the event of
his being put into prison or thrown into bankruptcy, or both, he ought to form a subsidiary silent
partnership with some man who was or would be well liked on 'change, and whom he could use
as a cat's-paw and a dummy.
Finally he hit upon a man who he thought would do. He did not amount to much--had a small
business; but he was honest, and he liked Cowperwood. His name was Wingate--Stephen
Wingate--and he was eking out a not too robust existence in South Third Street as a broker. 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. In times past he had
asked small favors of Cowperwood--the use of small loans at a moderate rate of interest, tips,
and so forth; and Cowperwood, because he liked him and felt a little sorry for him, had granted
them. Now Wingate was slowly drifting down toward a none too successful old age, and was as
tractable as such a man would naturally be. No one for the time being would suspect him of
being a hireling of Cowperwood's, and the latter could depend on him to execute his orders to
the letter. He sent for him and had a long conversation with him. He told him just what the
situation was, what he thought he could do for him as a partner, how much of his business he
would want for himself, and so on, and found him agreeable.
"I'll be glad to do anything you say, Mr. Cowperwood," he assured the latter. "I know whatever
happens that you'll protect me, and there's nobody in the world I would rather work with or have
greater respect for. This storm will all blow over, and you'll be all right. We can try it, anyhow. If
it don't work out you can see what you want to do about it later."
And so this relationship was tentatively entered into and Cowperwood began to act in a small
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