THE STOIC

Aileen’s bark was worse than her bite

Mrs. Cowperwood, I beg to take exception to your accusations. I was called in on this case in a professional capacity, not as a judge of situations which are none of my making. And you have no right to judge the motives of a man about whom you know as little as you do about me. Whether you believe it or not, your husband is a very sick man, very, and if you make the grave error of giving out any story to the press, you will be hurting yourself a thousand times more than you could ever hurt him, or anyone connected with him. For he not only has powerful friends, but admirers, as you know—friends who will deeply resent any such action as you propose, and who will not fail him. If he dies, as he well may . . . well, judge for yourself how any such public attack as you have in mind will be received.”

These varying problems prey on your mind, Frank,” he told him, seriously. “The brain is a thinking, creative, and directive organ which can cause you as much trouble as any fatal disease, of which worry is one, and I think you have that disease now. My problem is to make you know that that is true, and that your life is worth more to you than any ten underground systems. If you insist on putting work first, any quack doctor can truthfully assure you that at your age you are likely to die. So now my problem is to get your mind off your underground systems, and get you to take a real rest.”