The fearful labor struggle in American City was
surely not Peter's fault; nor was it his fault that he had been
drawn into it, and forced to act first as an unwilling witness, and
then as a secret agent. Peter read the American City "Times" every
morning, and knew that the cause of Goober was the cause of anarchy
and riot, while the cause of the district attorney and of Guffey's
secret service was the cause of law and order. Peter was doing his
best in this great cause, he was following the instructions of those
above him, and how could he be blamed because one poor weakling of a
girl had got in the way of the great chariot of the law?
Peter knew that it wasn't his fault; and yet grief and terror gnawed
at him. For one thing, he missed little Jennie, he missed her by day
and he missed her by night. He missed her gentle voice, her fluffy
soft hair, her body in his empty arms. She was his first love, and
she was gone, and it is human weakness to appreciate things most
when they have been lost.
Peter aspired to be a strong man, a "he-man," according to the slang
that was coming into fashion; he now tried to live up to that role.
He didn't want to go mooning about over this accident; yet Jennie's
face stayed with him--sometimes wild, as he had seen it at their
last meeting, sometimes gentle and reproachful.
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