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Updated: May 31, 2025
She dreaded returning to her cheerless room, but she could not walk the streets indefinitely, so she bought a magazine to read until it was time to dine alone in some one of the neighborhood's cheap restaurants. The night clerk was already on duty and through the fly-specked plate-glass window of the office saw her coming.
I don't think you did. But wasn't there many a sign that said, 'get money'?" "Caruthers, you join with the rest of this town in the belief that McElwin is a great man. I don't. He is a community success, a neighborhood's strong man, but in the hands of the giants who live in the real world he is a weakling."
Ed, whose wildest dissipation had perhaps been to bring into the world one of the neighborhood's babies, wakened customarily to the dark hour of his day, when he dubbed himself failure and loathed the Street with a deadly loathing. So now Max brought his handsome self down the staircase and paused at the office door. "At it, already," he said. "Or have you been to bed?"
Heretofore they have stuck faithfully to dry ground; now they start off for the water. Whether their impulse is simply to move down hill or whether they by some means detect the near presence of water, I cannot say. Certainly a new fountain on a lawn will secure in spring its prompt and full share of the neighborhood's toads.
Away from here, you mean to live?" Carrie laid down her fork. "Well, really, Jo! After all that explanation." "But to go over there to live! Why, that neighborhood's full of dirt, and disease, and crime, and the Lord knows what all. I can't let you do that, Carrie." Carrie's chin came up. She laughed a short little laugh. "Let me! That's eighteenth-century talk, Jo. My life's my own to live.
"And now I will ask our local member, Mr. Steadman, to take charge of the meeting, and give the neighborhood's welcome to our first graduate!" Then Mr. Steadman arose! He was a stout man, with a square face, and small, beady black eyes and an aggressive manner; a man who felt sure of himself; who knew he was the centre of his own circle.
Away from here, you mean to live?" Carrie laid down her fork. "Well, really, Jo! After all that explanation." "But to go over there to live! Why, that neighborhood's full of dirt, and disease, and crime, and the Lord knows what all. I can't let you do that, Carrie." Carrie's chin came up. She laughed a short little laugh. "Let me! That's eighteenth-century talk, Jo. My life's my own to live.
"Thurston, the subjects of a neighborhood's gossip are always the very last to hear it! You do not, perhaps, know that it is commonly reported that you and Miss Le Roy are engaged to be married!" "And you give a ready ear and ready belief to such injurious slanders!" "No! Heaven knows that I do not!
John had regarded her with a great deal of favor during the past two weeks, for she was a jolly little sprite with a mother who, thanks to the neighborhood's laundry patronage, contrived to clothe her daughter in a constantly varying and seldom-fitting assortment of dresses. Now echoes of her noisy laughter returned to grate upon his memory. The new little girl wouldn't laugh like that. Not she!
He would drift into a sort of giddiness, his thinking slowed and his eyes obsessed by these hurrying women as their naked arms moved back and forth, working far into the night to have the neighborhood's best clothes ready for Sunday. Everything around the laundry was slumbering, settled into sleep for the night. Midnight rang, then one o'clock, then two o'clock.
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