Beyond, great roofs thickened in the haze, farther on in that way lay Chicago, and somewhere in that welter, that tumult, that terror of the unknown, lived Mary.
With McCleary he took a car that galloped like a broncho, and started for the very heart of the mystery.

As the crowds thickened, as the cars they met grew more heavily laden, McCleary said: "My God! Where are they all goin'?
How do they all make a livin' ?" "That beats me," said Harold.

"Seems as if they eat up all the grub in the world." The older man sighed.

"Well, I reckon they know what they're doin', but I'd hate to take my chances among 'em." If any man had told Harold before he started that he would grow irresolute and weak in the presence of the city he would have bitterly resented it, but now the mass and weight of things hitherto unimagined appalled and bewildered him.
A profound melancholy settled over his heart as the smoke and gray light of the metropolis closed in over his head.

For half a day he did little more than wander up and down Clark Street.