THE FINANCIER 
hair, and the gold ornaments which she wore. Her face 
was concealed by a thick green veil, as Cowperwood 
had suggested; and she arrived at an hour when, as near 
as he had been able to prearrange, he would be alone. 
Wingate usually came at four, after business, and Steger 
in the morning, when he came at all. She was very 
nervous over this strange adventure, leaving the street- 
car some distance away and walking up a side street. 
The cold weather and the gray walls under a gray sky 
gave her a sense of defeat, but she had worked very 
hard to look nice in order to cheer her lover up. She 
knew how readily he responded to the influence of her 
beauty when properly displayed. 
Cowperwood, in view of her coming, had made his cell 
as acceptable as possible. It was clean, because he had 
swept it and made his own bed; and he had shaved 
and combed his hair, and otherwise put himself to 
rights. The caned chairs on which he was working had 
been put in the corner at the end of the bed. His few 
dishes were washed and hung up, and his clogs brushed 
with a brush which he now kept for the purpose. Never 
before, he thought to himself, with a peculiar feeling of 
artistic degradation, had Aileen seen him like this. She 
had always admired his good taste in clothes, and the 
way he carried himself in them; and now she was to see 
him in garments which no dignity of body could make 
presentable. A stoic sense of his own soul-dignity came 
over him, however. He was Frank A. Cowperwood, and 
that was enough, whatever he wore. He would be free 
and rich some day again, and, anyhow, his looks under 
these circumstances would make no difference to Aileen. 
She would only love him the more. It was her ardent 
sympathy that he was afraid of. He was so glad that 
Bonhag had suggested that she might enter the cell, for 
it would be a grim procedure talking to her through a 
barred door. Steger and Wingate had been allowed to 
confer with him in his cell from the beginning. 
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