An American Tragedy. Theodore Dreiser

An American Tragedy - Theodore Dreiser


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rel="nofollow" href="#u22d4186a-d685-5628-9d6b-6f91a1b5516e">Chapter XXXIV

       Chapter XXXV

       Chapter XXXVI

       Chapter XXXVII

       Chapter XXXVIII

       Chapter XXXIX

       Chapter XL

       Chapter XLI

       Chapter XLII

       Chapter XLIII

       Chapter XLIV

       Chapter XLV

       Chapter XLVI

       Chapter XLVII

       Book III

       Chapter I

       Chapter II

       Chapter III

       Chapter IV

       Chapter V

       Chapter VI

       Chapter VII

       Chapter VIII

       Chapter IX

       Chapter X

       Chapter XI

       Chapter XII

       Chapter XIII

       Chapter XIV

       Chapter XV

       Chapter XVI

       Chapter XVII

       Chapter XVIII

       Chapter XIX

       Chapter XX

       Chapter XXI

       Chapter XXII

       Chapter XXIII

       Chapter XXIV

       Chapter XXV

       Chapter XXVI

       Chapter XXVII

       Chapter XXVIII

       Chapter XXIX

       Chapter XXX

       Chapter XXXI

       Chapter XXXII

       Chapter XXXIII

       Chapter XXXIV

       Biographical Afterword

      Book I

      Chapter I

      Dusk—of a summer night.

      And the tall walls of the commercial heart of an American city of perhaps 400,000 inhabitants—such walls as in time may linger as a mere fable.

      And up the broad street, now comparatively hushed, a little band of six,—a man of about fifty, short, stout, with bushy hair protruding from under a round black felt hat, a most unimportant-looking person, who carried a small portable organ such as is customarily used by street preachers and singers. And with him a woman perhaps five years his junior, taller, not so broad, but solid of frame and vigorous, very plain in face and dress, and yet not homely, leading with one hand a small boy of seven and in the other carrying a Bible and several hymn books. With these three, but walking independently behind, was a girl of fifteen, a boy of twelve and another girl of nine, all following obediently, but not too enthusiastically, in the wake of the others.

      It was hot, yet with a sweet languor about it all.

      Crossing at right angles the great thoroughfare on which they walked, was a second canyon-like way, threaded by throngs and vehicles and various lines of cars which clanged their bells and made such progress as they might amid swiftly moving streams of traffic. Yet the little group seemed unconscious of anything save a set purpose to make its way between the contending lines of traffic and pedestrians which flowed by them.

      Having reached an intersection this side of the second principal thoroughfare—really just an alley between two tall structures—now quite bare of life of any kind, the man put down the organ, which the woman immediately opened, setting up a music rack upon which she placed a wide flat hymn book. Then handing the Bible to the man, she fell


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