"Oh," she murmured, "think, think of Laura finding him there like that.
Oh, it would have killed me, it would have killed me."

"Somehow," observed Landry, a puzzled expression in his eyes, "somehow,
by George! she don't seem to mind very much. You'd have thought a shock
like that would have made her sick."

"Oh! Laura," cried Page. "I don't know her any more these days, she is
just like stone--just as though she were crowding down every emotion or
any feeling she ever had. She seems to be holding herself in with all
her strength--for something--and afraid to let go a finger, for fear
she would give way altogether. When she told me about that morning at
the Cresslers' house, her voice was just like ice; she said, 'Mr.
Cressler has shot himself. I found him dead in his library.' She never
shed a tear, and she spoke, oh, in such a terrible monotone. Oh! dear,"
cried Page, "I wish all this was over, and we could all get away from
Chicago, and take Mr. Jadwin with us, and get him back to be as he used
to be, always so light-hearted, and thoughtful and kindly. He used to
be making jokes from morning till night. Oh, I loved him just as if he
were my father."

They crossed the street, and Landry, taking her by the arm, ushered her
into the corridor on the ground floor of the Board.

"Now, keep close to me," he said, "and see if we can get through
somewhere here."

The stairs leading up to the main floor were already crowded with
visitors, some standing in line close to the wall, others aimlessly
wandering up and down, looking and listening, their heads in the air.
One of these, a gentleman with a tall white hat, shook his head at
Landry and Page, as they pressed by him.

"You can't get up there," he said, "even if they let you in. They're
packed in like sardines already."

But Landry reassured Page with a knowing nod of his head.

"I told the guide up in the gallery to reserve a seat for you. I guess
we'll manage."

But when they reached the staircase that connected the main floor with
the visitors' gallery, it became a question as to whether or not they
could even get to the seat. The crowd was packed solidly upon the
stairs, between the wall and the balustrades. There were men in top
hats, and women in silks; rough fellows of the poorer streets, and
gaudily dressed queens of obscure neighborhoods, while mixed with these
one saw the faded and shabby wrecks that perennially drifted about the
Board of Trade, the f