And, too, he writes of strange gods which man should
worship. He pours out his soul in a fantastic scrawl. He says: "One is
all. God looked down and saw ants. The wheel of life turns seven times and
you can see between. You will sometime understand this. But now you have
curtains on your eyes."
Now that you have read all the letters the city becomes a picture. An
office in which sits a well-dressed business man dictating to a pretty
stenographer. They are hard at work, but as they work their eyes glance
furtively out of a tall, thin window. Some one is passing outside the
window. A strange figure, hooded, head down, with his hands moving queerly
under his great black cloak.
THE MOTHER
She sat on one of the benches in the Morals Court. The years had made a
coarse mask of her face. There was nothing to see in her eyes. Her hands
were red and leathery, like a man's. They had done a man's work.
A year-old child slept in her arms. It was bundled up, although the
courtroom itself was suffocating. She was waiting for Blanche's case to
come up. Blanche had been arrested by a policeman for--well, for what?
Something about a man. So she would lose $2.00 by not being at work at the
store today.
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