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“You think they’re coming to save you when you burn up?” Sy asks.
How were people like Ivy ever to have a chance if they were blamed for every act of negligence and spate of bad luck that occurred in their proximity?
you’ll find a country growing more puritanical with every passing day.”
demonstrate their gratitude, like he is an honest-to-God citizen of this city
Jack wonders if there has ever been a Negro the slave patrol did not deem suspicious.
They are all the same. Archie, Tom, Elliott Price. These men don’t have a selfless bone in their bodies. “Well,”
The question of what—or who—caused the fire is barely mentioned.
The crowd is in an uproar now, everyone relieved to have found someone to blame for the fire and its resulting destruction,
they are bound to contradict each other, to conflate events, to color in their own details. Jack can’t blame them—it’s who they are. None of them would have gone into the theater if they didn’t—at some level—like to hear themselves talk.
Why does Sally continue to be surprised by the depravity of men? Perhaps because so much has been made of their civility?
They pay lip service to the idea of civility, while doing whatever they want at all times.
She didn’t know that the men she’d surrounded herself with were all cowards.”
“Something tells me you are not the only woman in this city asking yourself that question.”
Jack has come to believe that men like Placide shouldn’t be treated like they can do no wrong. In fact, that might be the worst thing for them.
Gilbert can live with disbelieving, because even now—after everything that’s happened—he thinks his dreams might be big enough for them both.
