Once more the
street was crowded. Now there was no thought but for amusement. The
cable cars were loaded with theatre-goers--men in high hats and
young girls in furred opera cloaks. On the sidewalks were groups and
couples--the plumbers' apprentices, the girls of the ribbon counters,
the little families that lived on the second stories over their shops,
the dressmakers, the small doctors, the harness-makers--all the various
inhabitants of the street were abroad, strolling idly from shop window
to shop window, taking the air after the day's work. Groups of girls
collected on the corners, talking and laughing very loud, making remarks
upon the young men that passed them. The tamale men appeared. A band of
Salvationists began to sing before a saloon.
Then, little by little, Polk Street dropped back to solitude. Eleven
o'clock struck from the power-house clock. Lights were extinguished. At
one o'clock the cable stopped, leaving an abrupt silence in the air.
All at once it seemed very still. The ugly noises were the occasional
footfalls of a policeman and the persistent calling of ducks and geese
in the closed market. The street was asleep.
Day after day, McTeague saw the same panorama unroll itself.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25