Minnie's flat, as the one-floor resident apartments were then being
called, was in a part of West Van Buren Street inhabited by families of
laborers and clerks, men who had come, and were still coming, with the
rush of population pouring in at the rate of 50,000 a year. It was on
the third floor, the front windows looking down into the street, where,
at night, the lights of grocery stores were shining and children were
playing. To Carrie, the sound of the little bells upon the horse-cars,
as they tinkled in and out of hearing, was as pleasing as it was novel.
She gazed into the lighted street when Minnie brought her into the front
room, and wondered at the sounds, the movement, the murmur of the vast
city which stretched for miles and miles in every direction
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