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title: 'The Day book. (Chicago, Ill.) 1911-1917, January 03, 1914, NOON EDITION, Image 22',
meta: 'News about Chronicling America - RSS Feed',
Image provided by: University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign Library, Urbana, IL
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He watched with more .eagerness
that he would have cared to admit
for Tilly. With the informality of the
cabaret, the performers lounged
around the doorways. or mixed with
j The Apache dancers did their turn,
Ayith muph pulling and twisting,
much flying of skirts and revealing of
hideous lingerie and thick cotton
stockings. A colored boy, fresh from
Georgia, sang ragtime to the mad
enthusiasm of the crowd, but Tilly
did not appear. Sullivan ordered to
bacco, another pint of white wine.
The atmosphere was reeking; the in
cessant uproar of the orchestra got
on his nerves. When it became clear
that the program' had reached its
end, and was about to repeat, Sulli
van' got up and sauntered to the bar.
He had seen Tilly talking to the bar
maid the night before.
But the barmaid was a different
one, a black-haired French girl. She
said with a shrug of her shoulders,
that the Praulein was krank, and was
not there tonight. She knew nothing
of Tilly, and made poor work of un
derstanding him. In a sort of rage
of. disappointment he got his hat and
overcoat, and left the building.
He refused a cab. A fine" white
snow was falling in the narrow
streets. At the corner, a woman was
standing, head bent to the storm,
looking, in the wind, like some gray
night bird, waiting and ominious.
With a shudder of disgust, Sullivan
buttoned up his coat and turned to
He had taken perhaps a dozen
steps when a slim figure stepped out
from the shadow of the building, and
put a timid hand on his arm. Sulli
van stopped sharply and shook off
the hand. The light from a street
lamp, at that moment, by some
caprice of the wind, cleared of snow,
fell on the girl's face. It was Tilly,
Tilly, quivering, as white as chalk.
Sullivan faced her, almost as white
as she. When she saw him, or per
haps before she saw him, the horror
oi what she was doing came over
the girl like a cloud.
"Mother of God!" she gasped, and
turning, ran with all the speed of her
cold limbs and aching feet, down the
street, with Sullivan after her.
He overtook her in a dozen strides,
caught her by the shoulder and
wheeled her about to face him. Even
in that instant, his anger had turned
"I'm not going to hurt you, child,"
he said. "I am only what are you
doing out here in the storm?"
Tilly swayed somewhat, and closed
her eyes. Desperate as she was, she
felt the shaken depths in the man's
"I am going to take you home."
Tilly stirred at that.
"Home!" The word brought bit
terness with it. She jerked her arm
free. "You let me go!" she cried,
shrilly. "If I want to go to the devil,
it's my business, isn't it? I don't
want pity. I only want to be let
Sullivan looked down at her. His
eyes were still kind, but something
had faded out of them; perhaps it
was faith that had gone.
"To think," he said slowly, "that
last night I thought I would have
sworn that you "
And at that, without warning, Tilly
burst into loud, hysterical sobbing.
"I never did it in my life before!"
she choked. "Never! Never!"
The snow was falling heavily now.
Out of the white wall an occasional
cab emrged to lose itself a moment
later. Laughter and music, and the
rhythm of dancing feet, came
through doors that opened and shut.
In the night city, no one is curious;
each is intent on his own affairs. And
so, undisturbed, Sulilvan let Tilly cry
out her tortured young soul on his
After a time she grew quieter. He
hardly knew what to do. He could
take her to his sister meant to, of
course--but not at that hour of the
night He must get her under shel-s