the gift of geniality. None of these men or women suspected the depth of
his nature--he was thinking, thinking, thinking, but enjoyed life as he
went.

One of his earliest and most genuine leanings was toward paintings. He
admired nature, but somehow, without knowing why, he fancied one could
best grasp it through the personality of some interpreter, just as we
gain our ideas of law and politics through individuals. Mrs. Cowperwood
cared not a whit one way or another, but she accompanied him to
exhibitions, thinking all the while that Frank was a little peculiar.
He tried, because he loved her, to interest her in these things
intelligently, but while she pretended slightly, she could not really
see or care, and it was very plain that she could not.

The children took up a great deal of her time. However, Cowperwood was
not troubled about this. It struck him as delightful and exceedingly
worth while that she should be so devoted. At the same time, her
lethargic manner, vague smile and her sometimes seeming indifference,
which sprang largely from a sense of absolute security, attracted him
also. She was so different from him! She took her second marriage quite
as she had taken her first--a solemn fact which contained no possibility
of mental alteration. As for himself, however, he was bustling about in
a world which, financially at least, seemed all alteration--there were
so many sudden and almost unheard-of changes. He began to look at her
at times, with a speculative eye--not very critically, for he liked
her--but with an attempt to weigh her personality. He had known her
five years and more now. What did he know about her? The vigor of
youth--those first years--had made up for so many things, but now that
he had her safely...