The new Billy Byrne was ready to accept at face value
everything which seemed to belong in any way to the environment
of that exalted realm where dwelt the girl he loved. Law,
order, and justice appeared to Billy in a new light since he
had rubbed elbows with the cultured and refined.
He no longer distrusted or feared them. They would give
him what he sought--a square deal.
It seemed odd to Billy that he should be seeking anything
from the law or its minions. For years he had waged a
perpetual battle with both. Now he was coming back voluntarily
to give himself up, with every conviction that he should
be exonerated quickly. Billy, knowing his own innocence,
realizing his own integrity, assumed that others must
immediately appreciate both.
"First," thought Billy, "I'll go take a look at little old
Grand Ave., then I'll give myself up. The trial may take a
long time, an' if it does I want to see some of the old bunch
first."
So Billy entered an "L" coach and leaning on the sill of an
open window watched grimy Chicago rattle past until the
guard's "Granavenoo" announced the end of his journey.
Maggie Shane was sitting on the upper step of the long
flight of stairs which lean precariously against the scarred face
of the frame residence upon the second floor front of which
the lares and penates of the Shane family are crowded into
three ill-smelling rooms.
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