Twenty tales by twenty women: From real life in ChicagoAnonymous
General
Twenty tales by twenty women: From real life in Chicago
Anonymous
Chicago (Ill.) -- Moral conditions; Prostitution -- Illinois -- Chicago
“Finally I secured a position as governess, and had it not been for
the ideas of liberality which the man of the house in whose home I was
employed entertained, I might have regained some of my loss; at any rate,
he seemed to conceive the idea that my life was an aimless existence and
that I was only waiting to be won with endearing words of love.
“The days of trouble were not conducive to strengthening my character and
my tempter was a man of wiles and charms, so much so that his constant
observation disclosed my different moods to his discernible mind. His
plans were carried out with that accuracy and precision so characteristic
of a man of the world.
“That was the first step down the incline of rectitude; other men sought
me and so surely did I descend into the valley of shame that it was an
easy matter for me to consent to live with men in open defiance of the
law.
“During my career I met a gentleman who was more interested in me than
any one I had ever met; he lived in a small town in the west; he was a
man of great tenderness and we in time grew fond of each other. Much of
our time was consumed in talking of schools, books, music and travel. I
knew little of him and he nothing of me, any more than he had met me one
day as I was buying tickets for a matinee; the line at the window doubled
back around the entrance of the theatre. As the crowd crawled slowly
along I found myself standing beside him; he addressed me, whereupon
a conversation sprung up and he kindly offered to buy my tickets for
me when he reached the window, which would save me a delay of several
moments. As he handed me the tickets he apologized for his intrusion; I
thanked him for his kindness and was not at all surprised when I found
him in the seat next to mine. Our friendship grew and finally ripened
into such mutual admiration that I frequently found myself counting
the days that I must wait for his coming. Finally his visits grew less
frequent; I did not ask him why he came so seldom, for I considered it
none of my business; one of the waits proved longer than any before. He
did not come for a year, but when he came he found me in my old haunt.
This time he explained why his visits had been so far apart; his wife had
been ill and he had lost her six months before; they had a child, a boy
by adoption, and he could not well leave the little fellow. I insisted on
his bringing his boy along next time.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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