He was walking out Ashland Avenue. The streetcars had begun running again, and several passed him, packed to the steps with people. The sight of them set Jurgis to thinking again of the man’s sarcastic remark; and half involuntarily he found himself watching the cars—with the result that he gave a sudden startled exclamation, and stopped short in his tracks.
Then he broke into a run. For a whole block he tore after the car, only a little ways behind. That rusty black hat with the drooping red flower, it might not be Ona’s, but therewas very little likelihood of it. He wouldknow for certain very soon, for she would get out two blocks ahead. He slowed down, and let the car go on.
She got out: and as soon as she was out of sight on the side street Jurgis broke into a run. Suspicion was rife
