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 farm lights went out. The houses were blurs in the black. The lights of the city came nearer. She was thinking clearly, if disconnectedly, without bitterness, without reproach. “My father was wrong. He said that life was a great adventure—a fine show. He said the more things that happen to you the richer you are, even if they’re not pleasant things. That’s living, he said. No matter what happens to you, good or bad, it’s just so much—what was that word he used?—so much—oh, yes—‘velvet.’ Just so much velvet. Well, it isn’t true. He had brains, and charm, and knowledge and he died in a gambling house, shot while looking on at some one else who was to have been killed Now we're on the cobblestones. Will Dirk wake up? My little So Big. No, he’s asleep. Asleep on a pile of potato sacks because his mother thought that life was a grand adventure—a fine show—and that you took it as it came. A lie! I've taken it as it came and made the best of it. That isn’t the way. You take the best, and make the most of it Thirty-fifth Street, that was. Another hour and a half to reach the Haymarket. I'm not afraid. After all, you just sell your vegetables for what you can get. Well, it’s going to be different with him. I mustn’t call him Sobig any more. He doesn’t like it. Dirk. That's a fine name. Dirk DeJong. No drifting along for him. I'll see that he starts with a plan, and follows it. He'll have every chance. Every chance. Too late for me,