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A Fateful Interlude

           Afterthedullworldshehadknownitseemeddullcomparedtotheupper,rarefiedrealmswhichshewasbeginningtoglimpsethroughhimandaftertheaveragemeninthereal-estateofficeoverthewaywhereshehadfirstworked,Cowperwood,inhisgoodclothes,hisremotemood,hiseasy,commandingmanner,touchedthemostambitiouschordsofherbeing.OnedayshesawAileensweepinfromhercarriage,wearingwarmbrownfurs,smartpolishedboots,astreet-suitofcordedbrownwool,andafurtoquesharpenedandemphasizedbyalongdark-redfeatherwhichshotupwardlikeadaggeroraquillpen.Antoinettehatedher.Sheconceivedherselftobebetter,orasgoodatleast.Whywaslifedividedsounfairly?WhatsortofamanwasCowperwood,anyhow?Onenightaftershehadwrittenoutadiscreetbuttruthfulhistoryofhimselfwhichhehaddictatedtoher,andwhichshehadsenttotheChicagonewspapersforhimsoonaftertheopeningofhisbrokerageofficeinChicago,shewenthomeanddreamedofwhathehadtoldher,onlyaltered,ofcourse,asindreams.ShethoughtthatCowperwoodstoodbesideherinhishandsomeprivateofficeinLaSalleStreetandaskedher:

           "Antoinette,whatdoyouthinkofme?"Antoinettewasnonplussed,butbrave.Inherdreamshefoundherselfintenselyinterestedinhim.

           "Oh,Idon’tknowwhattothink.I’msosorry,"washeranswer.Thenhelaidhishandonhers,onhercheek,andsheawoke.Shebeganthinking,whatapity,whatashamethatsuchamanshouldeverhavebeeninprison.

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Roboto Lora
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