“Honey,” he said, quickly, when he saw her eyes, “you don’t understand.  I want you to do what you want to do.  You’ve planned this out in order to be with me; so now you do it.  Don’t think any more about me or anything I’ve said.  I was merely thinking that it might make matters worse for both of us; but I don’t believe it will.  You think your father loves you so much that after you’re gone he’ll change his mind.  Very good; go.  But we must be very careful, sweet—­you and I—­really we must.  This thing is getting serious.  If you should go and your father should charge me with abduction—­take the public into his confidence and tell all about this, it would be serious for both of us—­as much for you as for me, for I’d be convicted sure then, just on that account, if nothing else.  And then what?  You’d better not try to see me often for the present—­not any oftener than we can possibly help.  If we had used common sense and stopped when your father got that letter, this wouldn’t have happened.  But now that it has happened, we must be as wise as we can, don’t you see?  So, think it over, and do what you think best and then write me and whatever you do will be all right with me—­do you hear?” He drew her to him and kissed her.  “You haven’t any money, have you?” he concluded wisely.

Aileen, deeply moved by all he had just said, was none the less convinced once she had meditated on it a moment, that her course was best.  Her father loved her too much.  He would not do anything to hurt her publicly and so he would not attack Cowperwood through her openly.  More than likely, as she now explained to Frank, he would plead with her to come back.  And he, listening, was compelled to yield.  Why argue?  She would not leave him anyhow.

He went down in his pocket for the first time since he had known Aileen and produced a layer of bills.  “Here’s two hundred dollars, sweet,” he said, “until I see or hear from you.  I’ll see that you have whatever you need; and now don’t think that I don’t love you.  You know I do.  I’m crazy about you.”

Aileen protested that she did not need so much—­that she did not really need any—­she had some at home; but he put that aside.  He knew that she must have money.

“Don’t talk, honey,” he said.  “I know what you need.”  She had been so used to receiving money from her father and mother in comfortable amounts from time to time that she thought nothing of it.  Frank loved her so much that it made everything right between them.  She softened in her mood and they discussed the matter of letters, reaching the conclusion that a private messenger would be safest.  When finally they parted, Aileen, from being sunk in the depths by his uncertain attitude, was now once more on the heights.  She decided that he did love her, and went away smiling.  She had her Frank to fall back on—­she would teach her father.  Cowperwood shook his head, following her with his eyes.  She represented an additional burden, but give her up, he certainly