Here was already the bewildered foreigner, an alien speech confounding him--the Hun, the Pole, the Swede, the German, the Russian--seeking his homely colonies, fearing his neighbor of another race.
Here was the negro, the prostitute, the blackleg, the gambler, the romantic adventurer par excellence.

A city with but a handful of the native-born; a city packed to the doors with all the riffraff of a thousand towns.

Flaring were the lights of the bagnio; tinkling the banjos, zithers, mandolins of the so-called gin-mill; all the dreams and the brutality of the day seemed gathered to rejoice (and rejoice they did) in this new-found wonder of a metropolitan life in the West.
The first prominent Chicagoan whom Cowperwood sought out was the president of the Lake City National Bank, the largest financial organization in the city, with deposits of over fourteen million dollars.

It was located in Dearborn Street, at Munroe, but a block or two from his hotel.
"Find out who that man is," ordered Mr.Judah Addison, the president of the bank, on seeing him enter the president's private waiting-room.
Mr.Addison's office was so arranged with glass windows that he could, by craning his neck, see all who entered his reception-room before they saw him, and he had been struck by Cowperwood's face and force.

Long familiarity with the banking world and with great affairs generally had given a rich finish to the ease and force which the latter naturally possessed.