Columbia City was not so very far away, even once she was in Chicago. There was the great city, bound more closely by these very trains which came up daily. To be sure there was always the next station, where one might descend and return. A gush of tears at her mother's farewell kiss, mill where her father worked by the day, a pathetic sigh as the familiar green environs of the village passed in review and the threads which bound her so lightly to girlhood and home were irretrievably broken. Whatever touch of regret at parting characterized her given up. She was eighteen years or age, bright, timid, and full of the illusions of ignorance and youth. When Caroline Meeber boarded the afternoon train for Chicago, her total outfit consisted of a small trunk, a cheap imitation alligator-skin satchel, a small lunch in a paper box, and a yellow leather snap purse, containing her ticket, a scrap of paper with her sister's address in Van Buren Street, and four dollar in money. THE MAGNET ATTRACTING: A WIFE AMID FORCES
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