Evening
after evening he had walked alone through the streets and had stood at
the door of the State Street restaurant a solitary figure aloof from
life. Now he was to be drawn into the maelstrom. In the past he had
been let alone by life. The great blessing of isolation had been his
and in his isolation he had dreamed a big dream. Now the quality of
the dream and the strength of its hold upon him was to be tested.
McGregor was not to escape the influence of the life of his day. Deep
human passion lay asleep in his big body. Before the time of his
Marching Men he had yet to stand the most confusing of all the modern
tests of men, the beauty of meaningless women and the noisy clamour of
success that is equally meaningless.
On the day of his conversation with Andrew Brown in the old Cook
County jail on Chicago's North Side we are therefore to think of
McGregor as facing these tests. After the talk with Brown he walked
along the street and came to the bridge that led over the river into
the loop district. In his heart he knew that he was facing a fight and
the thought thrilled him. With a new lift to his shoulders he walked
over the bridge. He looked at the people and again let his heart be
filled with contempt for them.
He wished that the fight for Brown were a fight with fists.
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