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Masters, Edgar Lee, 1868-1950

"Children of the Market Place"

Yes, I understood. And if it had come to that, what could I do
with Zoe, if I found her?
Chicago was not long in discovering that Douglas, the marvelous boy, was
in their midst. He must make an address. They erected a platform and
billed the town. I stayed near until Douglas rose to speak. He looked
fresh and tidy in his new suit, and with freshly shaven face. I heard
his great voice roll out over the large crowd collected to hear him. I
heard the applause that welcomed him, that responded to the first thrill
of his fluent eloquence. Then I stole away to look for Zoe.
I walked up and down the streets. I stood in drinking places. I entered
a few places of vice. I stopped at the rear of a hotel, where the maids
were gathered together resting and talking after the day's work. But no
Zoe.
At last I went down to the shore of the lake, rather to the shore of the
sluice through which the Chicago River widened into the lake in a
southerly direction. I sat here on a rude settee. The air was warm.
There were sounds and voices floating over me from the town.
Occasionally I could hear the organ music of Douglas' oratory, as it
drifted indistinguishably to me. I was thinking, wondering about my own
life; enthralled at the vision of this new country, which I could see
taking form before my own eyes.


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