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A Poor Wise Man
Mary Roberts Rinehart

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A POOR WISE MAN 

by Mary Roberts Rinehart 

 

CHAPTER I 

The city turned its dreariest aspect toward the railway on blackened
walls, irregular and ill-paved streets, gloomy warehouses, and over
all a gray, smoke-laden atmosphere which gave it mystery and often
beauty.  Sometimes the softened towers of the great steel bridges
rose above the river mist like fairy towers suspended between Heaven
and earth.  And again the sun tipped the surrounding hills with gold,
while the city lay buried in its smoke shroud, and white ghosts of
river boats moved spectrally along. 

Sometimes it was ugly, sometimes beautiful, but always the city was
powerful, significant, important.  It was a vast melting pot.  Through

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