The pit

In memory of certain lamentable tales of the round (dining-room) table heroes; of the epic of the pewter platoons, and the romance-cycle of Gaston Le Fox, which we invented, maintained, and found marvellous at a time when we both were boys.
Principal Characters in the Novel
CURTIS JADWIN, capitalist and speculator. SHELDON CORTHELL, an artist. LANDRY COURT, broker's clerk. SAMUEL GRETRY, a broker. CHARLES CRESSLER, a dealer in grain. MRS. CRESSLER, his wife. LAURA DEARBORN, protege of Mrs. Cressler. PAGE DEARBORN, her sister. MRS. EMILY WESSELS, aunt of Laura and Page.
The Trilogy of The Epic of the Wheat includes the following novels:
THE OCTOPUS, a Story of California. THE PIT, a Story of Chicago. THE WOLF, a Story of Europe.
These novels, while forming a series, will be in no way connected with each other save only in their relation to (1) the production, (2) the distribution, (3) the consumption of American wheat. When complete, they will form the story of a crop of wheat from the time of its sowing as seed in California to the time of its consumption as bread in a village of Western Europe.
The first novel, The Octopus, deals with the war between the wheat grower and the Railroad Trust; the second, The Pit, is the fictitious narrative of a deal in the Chicago wheat pit; while the third, The Wolf, will probably have for its pivotal episode the relieving of a famine in an Old World community.
The author's most sincere thanks for assistance rendered in the preparation of the following novel are due to Mr. G. D. Moulson of New York, whose unwearied patience and untiring kindness helped him to the better understanding of the technical difficulties of a Very complicated subject. And more especially he herewith acknowledges his unmeasured obligation and gratitude to Her Who Helped the Most of All.
F. N. NEW YORK June 4, 1901.

At eight o'clock in the inner vestibule of the Auditorium Theatre by the window of the box office, Laura Dearborn, her younger sister Page, and their aunt—Aunt Wess'—were still waiting for the rest of the theatre-party to appear. A great, slow-moving press of men and women in evening dress filled the vestibule from one wall to another. A confused murmur of talk and the shuffling of many feet arose on all sides, while from time to time, when the outside and inside doors of the entrance chanced to be open simultaneously, a sudden draught of air gushed in, damp, glacial, and edged with the penetrating keenness of a Chicago evening at the end of February.