Do you love him so much"-- he was referring to Cowperwood--"that you can't love any one else ?" "Oh, him!" retorted Aileen, irritably, almost disloyally.

"He doesn't care for me any more.

He wouldn't mind.

It isn't him." "Well, then, what is it?
Why won't you?
Am I not interesting enough?
Don't you like me?
Don't you feel that I'm really suited to you ?" His hand sought hers softly.
Aileen accepted the caress.
"Oh, it isn't that," she replied, feelingly, running back in her mind over her long career with Cowperwood, his former love, his keen protestations.

She had expected to make so much out of her life with him, and here she was sitting in a public restaurant flirting with and extracting sympathy from a comparative stranger.