[The Social Stratification Perspective]
Fifty Dollar Souls The rain in Chicago does not wash things clean. It makes everything worse. It turns coal dust into sludge, sludge into a kind of black paste that sticks to your shoes and follows you home, and home is usually a bar or a apartment with peeling wallpaper and a radiator that clicks like a dying metronome. Silas Mercer knew this. He had lived in Chicago long enough to know that...
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