Then, too, due to one whisper and another, and these originating with the girl who had written Butler and Cowperwood’s wife, there was at this time a growing volume of gossip relating to the alleged relations of Cowperwood with Butler’s daughter, Aileen.  There had been a house in Tenth Street.  It had been maintained by Cowperwood for her.  No wonder Butler was so vindictive.  This, indeed, explained much.  And even in the practical, financial world, criticism was now rather against Cowperwood than his enemies.  For, was it not a fact, that at the inception of his career, he had been befriended by Butler?  And what a way to reward that friendship!  His oldest and firmest admirers wagged their heads.  For they sensed clearly that this was another illustration of that innate “I satisfy myself” attitude which so regulated Cowperwood’s conduct.  He was a strong man, surely—­and a brilliant one.  Never had Third Street seen a more pyrotechnic, and yet fascinating and financially aggressive, and at the same time, conservative person.  Yet might one not fairly tempt Nemesis by a too great daring and egotism?  Like Death, it loves a shining mark.  He should not, perhaps, have seduced Butler’s daughter; unquestionably he should not have so boldly taken that check, especially after his quarrel and break with Stener.  He was a little too aggressive.  Was it not questionable whether—­with such a record—­he could be restored to his former place here?  The bankers and business men who were closest to him were decidedly dubious.

But in so far as Cowperwood and his own attitude toward life was concerned, at this time—­the 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.