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attack of some kind. He feared by this that she was guilty, and he was all the more distressed,
ashamed, outraged, made wholly unhappy. He fumbled in the left-hand pocket of his coat and
drew forth from among the various papers the fatal communication so cheap in its physical
texture. His big fingers fumbled almost tremulously as he fished the letter-sheet out of the small
envelope and unfolded it without saying a word. Aileen watched his face and his hands,
wondering what it could be that he had here. He handed the paper over, small in his big fist, and
said, "Read that."
Aileen took it, and for a second was relieved to be able to lower her eyes to the paper. Her relief
vanished in a second, when she realized how in a moment she would have to raise them again
and look him in the face.
DEAR SIR--This is to warn you that your daughter Aileen is running around with a man that she
shouldn't, Frank A. Cowperwood, the banker. If you don't believe it, watch the house at 931
North Tenth Street. Then you can see for yourself.
In spite of herself the color fled from her cheeks instantly, only to come back in a hot, defiant
wave.
"Why, what a lie!" she said, lifting her eyes to her father's. "To think that any one should write
such a thing of me! How dare they! I think it's a shame!"
Old Butler looked at her narrowly, solemnly. He was not deceived to any extent by her bravado.
If she were really innocent, he knew she would have jumped to her feet in her defiant way.
Protest would have been written all over her. As it was, she only stared haughtily. He read
through her eager defiance to the guilty truth.
"How do ye know, daughter, that I haven't had the house watched?" he said, quizzically. "How
do ye know that ye haven't been seen goin' in there?"
Only Aileen's solemn promise to her lover could have saved her from this subtle thrust. As it
was, she paled nervously; but she saw Frank Cowperwood, solemn and distinguished, asking
her what she would say if she were caught.
"It's a lie!" she said, catching her breath. "I wasn't at any house at that number, and no one saw
me going in there. How can you ask me that, father?"
In spite of his mixed feelings of uncertainty and yet unshakable belief that his daughter was
guilty, he could not help admiring her courage--she was so defiant, as she sat there, so set in
her determination to lie and thus defend herself. Her beauty helped her in his mood, raised her
in his esteem. After all, what could you do with a woman of this kind? She was not a ten-year-
old girl any more, as in a way he sometimes continued to fancy her.
"Ye oughtn't to say that if it isn't true, Aileen," he said. "Ye oughtn't to lie. It's against your faith.
Why would anybody write a letter like that if it wasn't so?"
"But it's not so," insisted Aileen, pretending anger and outraged feeling, "and I don't think you
have any right to sit there and say that to me. I haven't been there, and I'm not running around
with Mr. Cowperwood. Why, I hardly know the man except in a social way."
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