When I moved to the opposite side of Chicago with Robert in July of 1913, I was almost nineteen years old and definitely not prepared for some of the things I was exposed to when I went there.

Things were very different in the place Robert and I lived in. We lived in an area where Robert had a lot of friends. I guess when you're a con artist and a criminal, you need a lot of allies.

Coming from a very privileged, prim and restricted lifestyle, I was very sheltered from a lot of the corruption in our world. That was one thing I learned that year. I had a very protected life and I thank God I had someone like Robert to help me handle it.

Robert lived in a world that was very different from the world I lived in before. And Robert was quick to introduce me to the saloons and bars, the fast girls, the gambling. I learned how skilled of a con artist Robert was, and I learned about how most people in the world were unfortunate or troubled. I learned a lot, and I went through a lot that year. But I only observed it. I never experienced it though, just simply tiptoed around everything, still a little too scared to go inside the middle of everything and find out the results of the experience.

When I think about my life before, and the people that I left behind in that life, I just want to laugh at it, and laugh at them. My old girl friends, they were all living in a bubble–and they probably still are. While they were living in a rose-tinted world of debutantes and elegant dinner parties and maids and finding suitable husbands as their largest worry, I was living in with Robert, with my baby, in the real world. I didn't grow up like my friends did and I wasn't willing to go back to their world either. Within a month, I had been exposed to too much. Going back would be like going backwards in time and you simply can't do that. I just wouldn't be able to live in that world again.

The major–and last– thing that happened in Chicago was the fight. It happened in early January of 1914.One night, I was in my bedroom, reading a book and keeping a close eye on Ruby, when I heard the sound of someone pounding frantically at the door. I was a little nervous, but I took a risk and opened the door.

"Robert was in an accident!" said a skinny, black-haired man the second I opened the door.

"What!" I said. I felt my body go weak and my head go tense at the thought of Robert injured or worse–

"He's badly hurt!" the boy continued, still panting–he must have ran all the way to my apartment Finally, he stopped for a minute and then, quickly, he explained. "Robert, he was in the barroom he's usually in, being his usual good self, and he wasn't doing anything to anyone at all. And then, this man comes in and starts cussing and yelling at Robert, and telling everyone this and that about how Robert took his money, and then he started calling Robert a thief and a cheat and a liar, and then Robert, his temper finally flared up and then he started defending himself, and well–Robert gave that man a good punch and that's when it all started. We managed to fight the man off of Robert, but the he still got him good--"

I didn't even listen to the rest of what the boy said. I just went to the bed room, took Ruby out of her crib and sent her to my neighbors, asking them to take care of her while I went to find Robert–and then I followed the boy out of the apartment building, and down a few blocks to Robert's usual spot.

I noticed Robert the second I walked inside and I nearly cried when I saw him through the crowd with his torn jacket, his wavy blond hair out of place, and his scratched face with the bloody lip. I didn't even hesitate, I didn't even think. I just ran over to the bench he was lying on, and then I had to push through the men crowding around him.

"Let me pass!" I shouted. "I'm his wife!"

And then in an instant all I could hear was, "Let the woman pass!" and "It's Robert's wife coming through!"

When I finally came to Robert, I crouched down and held his hand before I turned around and shouted for a wet towel and a little bit of help. I needed to clean his lip, since no one bothered to do it.

Finally, with a little bit of help from the men, I was able to walk a limping Robert home. The men helped him onto the old, leather couch in the living room while I fixed him tea in the kitchen.

The truth is, I didn't want to see Robert at all. I knew it was wrong, but I was angry at him when I heard the story and I was even angrier at him after I smelled the familiar scent of alcohol on his breath. Accident? No, it wasn't an accident, and no, I wasn't stupid either. I had learned a lot during those past months with Robert to know better. And I knew better than to believe that Robert was a poor, innocent victim. This wasn't a story about a drunken bum that lost his mind one night. God knows the strange man was telling the truth when he told everyone that Robert was a liar that cheated him out of his money.

I figured Robert deserved the fight. And I thought, maybe he needed to get beaten up, just to understand exactly what he was doing, and maybe, he'll stop and turn around and change for the better. I was nineteen years old and still very young and very innocent, despite all that I had went through. I didn't know then, that Robert was in plenty of fights with plenty of people, in plenty of barrooms. This incident wasn't going to change Robert. Robert was beyond help.

But my childish beliefs gave me some form of hope. I managed to forgive Robert right then and there, and finally, I came out of the kitchen to serve Robert his tea. And besides, I needed to get Ruby too.

The next day, Robert didn't go anywhere. He slept on the couch the entire day instead. I didn't let it worry me though. I knew Robert needed to recover and get better.

But then, a week had passed. Robert was better, and he was walking about, but he didn't even attempt to go outside. Instead, he stayed locked inside of his bedroom during the day and fell asleep on the couch at night. That was the first time I became a witness to Robert hiding, scared of someone looking for him outside.

This went on for about a while longer. Finally, two weeks later, I came home from buying groceries and found Robert in his bedroom, throwing his clothes into a suitcase.

"Pack quickly, Rose," he said. That was all he had to say.

The next day, we were on the train again.