"I know it. And it's great! Won't you be, too? Forget
you're a fair financier, or whatever they call it. Forget
you earn more in a month than I do in six. Relax. Unbend.
Loosen up. Don't assume that hardshell air with me. Just
remember that I knew you when the frill of your panties
showed below your skirt."
"Clarence Heyl!"
But he was leaning past her, and pointing out of the window.
"See that curtain of smoke off there? That's the South
Chicago, and the Hammond and Gary steel mills. Wait till
you see those smokestacks against the sky, and the iron
scaffoldings that look like giant lacework, and the slag
heaps, and the coal piles, and those huge, grim tanks. Gad!
It's awful and beautiful. Like the things Pennell does."
"I came out here on the street car one day," said Fanny,
quietly. "One Sunday."
"You did!" He stared at her.
"It was hot, and they were all spilling out into the street.
You know, the women in wrappers, just blobs of flesh trying
to get cool. And the young girls in their pink silk dresses
and white shoes, and the boys on the street corners, calling
to them.
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