^f^W^rmr ^ ^^ 
 
 THEDDORI DREISER
 
 SISTER CARRIE
 
 iroinnnnrsTrinnnnnnrBTr^^ 
 
 SISTER 
 
 THEODORE DREISER 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP 
 
 PUBLISHERS NEW YORK 
 
 JO Q Q 0_OQ Q Q Q Q QQQQQQOOOQOQQOOOOOJ)0_
 
 COPYRIGHT, I9OO, BY HARPER & BROTHERS 
 COPYRIGHT, 1917, BY HORACE LIVERIGHT, INC. 

 
 t* 
 
 THE EARLY ADVENTURES OF 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 I AM frequently asked for the story of the trials and trib- 
 ulations attendant upon the publication of my first novel 
 Sister Carrie. The interest of the story to me at this time 
 lies in the picture it presents of the moral taboos of that 
 day as reflected by publishing conditions that made possible 
 such an experience as mine in connection with Sister Carrie. 
 
 When I first turned to writing it was mainly articles for 
 magazines that occupied my attention. But having no such 
 "happy" stories to tell as those that filled the pages of the 
 popular magazines of the day, I met with little success. My 
 own reactions to life were so diametrically opposed to the fic- 
 tion of that time. I then turned to a novel, beginning its first 
 pages in the autumn of 1899 and finishing it in May, 1900. 
 But even with the novel finished, I found little encourage- 
 ment. I took it first to Henry Mills Alden, editor of Har- 
 per's Magazine, who read the manuscript and, while ex- 
 pressing approval, at the same time doubted whether any 
 publisher would take it. The American mass mind of that 
 day, as he knew, was highly suspicious of any truthful in- 
 terpretation of life. However, he turned it over to Harper & 
 Brothers, who kept it three weeks and then informed me 
 that they could not publish it. 
 
 I next submitted it to Doubleday Page, where Frank 
 Norris occupied the position of reader. He recommended it 
 most enthusiastically to his employers, and it seemed that 
 my book was really to be published, for a few weeks later 
 I signed a contract with Doubleday Page and the book 
 was printed.
 
 vi FOREWORD 
 
 In the meantime (as I was told by Frank Norris himself, 
 and later by William Heinemann, the publisher, of London), 
 Mrs. Frank Doubleday read the manuscript and was horri- 
 fied by its frankness. She was a social worker and active in 
 moral reform, and because of her strong dislike for the book 
 and insistence that it be withdrawn from publication, Dou- 
 bleday Page decided not to put it in circulation. However, 
 Frank Norris remained firm in his belief that the book 
 should come before the American public, and persuaded 
 me to insist on the publishers carrying out the contract. 
 Their legal adviser one Thomas McKee, who afterwards 
 personally narrated to me his share in all this was called 
 in, and he advised the firm that it was legally obliged to go 
 on with the publication, it having signed a contract to do so, 
 but that this did not necessarily include selling? in short, the 
 books, after publication, might be thrown into the cellar! 
 I believe this advice was followed to the letter, because no 
 copies were ever sold. But Frank Norris, as he himself told 
 me, did manage to send out some copies to book review- 
 ers, probably a hundred of them. 
 
 After some five years, I induced J. F. Taylor & Company, 
 rare book dealers, to undertake the publication of Sister 
 Carrie providing I would precede it with a new novel. My 
 intention was to furnish them with Jennie Gerhardt, but 
 my health being poor I could not complete it. In the mean- 
 time the plates of Sister Carrie and some bound and un- 
 bound copies had been purchased by them for five hundred 
 dollars or thereabouts. Later, having turned to editorial 
 work, I laid up sufficient to repurchase the plates and copies 
 and thereafter until the reissue of the work by B. W. 
 Dodge Company the same remained in my possession, and 
 still do. 
 
 In 1901 Sister Carrie was published by Heinemann in 
 London and gained considerable publicity. Acting on this, I 
 took the manuscript (in 1907, when I was editor of the 
 Butterick publications) to the then newly formed publish-
 
 FOREWORD vii 
 
 ing house of B. W. Dodge Company, who brought the book 
 out in that year. In 1908 Grosset & Dunlap published Sis- 
 ter Carrie, using the same plates, but even at that day the 
 outraged protests far outnumbered the plaudits. Later, in 
 1911, it was reissued by Harper & Brothers, who had just 
 published Jennie Gerhardt. Still later, after John Lane had 
 thrown me out on account of "The Genius," it was taken 
 over by Boni & Liveright and published. That was in 1917. 
 And there its harried and varied wanderings ended. 
 
 THEODORE DREISEIU
 
 SISTER CARRIE
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE MAGNET ATTRACTING: A WAIF AMID FORCES 
 
 When Caroline Meeber boarded the afternoon train 
 for Chicago, her total outfit consisted of a small trunk, a 
 cheap imitation alligator-skin satchel, a small lunch in a 
 paper box, and a yellow leather snap purse, containing 
 her ticket, a scrap of paper with her sister's address in 
 Van Buren Street, and four dollars in money. It was in 
 August, 1889. She was eighteen years 01 age, bright, 
 timid, and full of the illusions of ignorance and youth. 
 Whatever touch of regret at parting characterised her 
 thoughts, it was certainly not for advantages now being 
 given up. A gush of tears at her mother's farewell kiss, 
 a touch in her throat when the cars clacked by the flour 
 mill where her father worked by the day, a pathetic sigh 
 as the familiar green environs of the village passed in 
 review, and the threads which bound her so lightly to 
 girlhood and home were irretrievably broken. 
 
 To be sure there was always the next station, where one 
 might descend and return. There was the great city, 
 bound more closely by these very trains which came up 
 daily. Columbia City was not so very far away, even 
 once she was in Chicago. What, pray, is a few hours^ 
 a few hundred miles? She looked at the little slip bear- 
 ing her sister's address and wondered. She gazed at the
 
 2 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 green landscape, now passing in swift review, until her 
 swifter thoughts replaced its impression with vague con- 
 jectures of what Chicago might be. 
 
 When a girl leaves her home at eighteen, she does one 
 of two things. Either she falls into saving hands and 
 becomes better, or she rapidly assumes the cosmopolitan 
 standard of virtue and becomes worse. Of an inter- 
 mediate balance, under the circumstances, there is no 
 possibility. The city has its cunning wiles, no less than 
 the infinitely smaller and more human tempter. There 
 are large forces which allure with all the soulfulness of 
 expression possible in the most cultured human. The 
 gleam of a thousand lights is often as effective as the per- 
 suasive light in a wooing and fascinating eye. Half the 
 undoing of the unsophisticated and natural mind is ac- 
 complished by forces wholly superhuman. A blare of 
 sound, a roar of life, a vast array of human hives, appeal 
 to the astonished senses in equivocal terms. Without a 
 counsellor at hand to whisper cautious interpretations, 
 what falsehoods may not these things breathe into the 
 unguarded ear! Unrecognised for what they are, their 
 beauty, like music, too often relaxes, then weakens, then 
 perverts the simpler human perceptions. 
 
 Caroline, or Sister Carrie, as she had been half affec- 
 tionately termed by the family, was possessed of a mind 
 rudimentary in its power of observation and analysis. 
 Self-interest with her was high, but not strong. It was, 
 nevertheless, her guiding characteristic. Warm with the 
 fancies of youth, pretty with the insipid prettiness of the 
 formative period, possessed of a figure promising eventual 
 shapeliness and an eye alight with certain native intelli- 
 gence, she was a fair example of the middle American 
 class two generations removed from the emigrant. 
 Books were beyond her interest knowledge a sealed 
 book. In the intuitive graces she was still crude. She
 
 SISTER CARRIE 3 
 
 could scarcely toss her head gracefully. Her hands were 
 almost ineffectual. The feet, though small, were set 
 flatly. And yet she was interested in her charms, quick 
 to understand the keener pleasures of life, ambitious to 
 gain in material things. A half-equipped little knight she 
 was, venturing to reconnoitre the mysterious city and 
 dreaming wild dreams of some vague, far-off supremacy, 
 which should make it prey and subject the proper peni- 
 tent, grovelling at a woman's slipper. 
 
 " That," said a voice in her ear, " is one of the prettiest 
 little resorts in Wisconsin." 
 
 " Is it? " she answered nervously. 
 
 The train was just pulling out of Waukesha. For some 
 time she had been conscious of a man behind. She felt 
 him observing her mass of hair. He had been fidgetting, 
 and with natural intuition she felt a certain interest grow- 
 ing in that quarter. Her maidenly reserve, and a certain 
 sense of what was conventional under the circumstances, 
 called her to forestall and deny this familiarity, but the 
 daring and magnetism of the individual, born of past ex- 
 periences and triumphs, prevailed. She answered. 
 
 He leaned forward to put his elbows upon the back of 
 her seat and proceeded to make himself volubly agreeable. 
 
 " Yes, that is a great resort for Chicago people. The 
 hotels are swell. You are not familiar with this part of 
 the country, are you? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, I am," answered Carrie. " That is, I live at 
 Columbia City. I have never been through here, though." 
 
 "And so this is your first visit to Chicago," he observed. 
 
 All the time she was conscious of certain features out 
 of the side of her eye. Flush, colourful cheeks, a light 
 moustache, a grey fedora hat. She now turned and looked 
 upon him in full, the instincts of self-protection and co* 
 quetry mingling confusedly in her brain. 
 
 " I didn't say that," she said-
 
 4 SISTER CARRIE * 
 
 " Oh," he answered, in a very pleasing way and with 
 an assumed air of mistake, " I thought you did." 
 
 Here was a type of the travelling canvasser for a manu- 
 facturing house a class which at that time was first 
 being dubbed by the slang of the day " drummers." He 
 came within the meaning of a still newer term, which had 
 sprung into general use among Americans in 1880, and 
 which concisely expressed the thought of one whose dress 
 or manners are calculated to elicit the admiration of sus- 
 ceptible young women a " masher." His suit was of a 
 striped and crossed pattern of brown wool, new at that 
 time, but since become familiar as a business suit. The 
 low crotch of the vest revealed a stiff shirt bosom of white 
 and pink stripes. From his coat sleeves protruded a pair 
 of linen cuffs of the same pattern, fastened with large, 
 gold plate buttons, set with the common yellow agates 
 known as " cat's-eyes." His fingers bore several rings 
 one, the ever-enduring heavy seal and from his vest 
 dangled a neat gold watch chain, from which was sus- 
 pended the secret insignia of the Order of Elks. The 
 whole suit was rather tight-fitting, and was finished off 
 with heavy-soled tan shoes, highly polished, and the grey 
 fedora hat. He was, for the order of intellect represented, 
 attractive, and whatever he had to recommend him, you 
 may be sure was not lost upon Carrie, in this, her first 
 glance. 
 
 Lest this order of individual should permanently pass, 
 let me put down some of the most striking characteristics 
 of his most successful manner and method. Good clothes, 
 of course, were the first essential, the things without 
 which he was nothing. A strong physical nature, actu- 
 ated by a keen desire for the feminine, was the next. A 
 mind free of any consideration of the problems or 
 forces of the world and actuated not by greed, but an 
 insatiable love of variable pleasure. His method was
 
 SISTER CARRIE 5 
 
 always simple. Its principal element was daring, backed, 
 of course, by an intense desire and admiration for the 
 sex. Let him meet with a young woman once and he 
 would approach her with an air of kindly familiarity, 
 not unmixed with pleading, which would result in most 
 cases in a tolerant acceptance. If she showed any tend- 
 ency to coquetry he would be apt to straighten her 
 tie, or if she " took up " with him at all, to call her by 
 her first name. If he visited a department store it was 
 to lounge familiarly over the counter and ask some 
 leading questions. In more exclusive circles, on the 
 train or in waiting stations, he went slower. If some 
 seemingly vulnerable object appeared he was all atten- 
 tion to pass the compliments of the day, to lead the 
 way to the parlor car, carrying her grip, or, failing 
 that, to take a seat next her with the hope of being 
 able to court her to her destination. Pillows, books, 
 a footstool, the shade lowered ; all these figured in the 
 things which he could do. If, when she reached her 
 destination he did not alight and attend her baggage 
 for her, it was because, in his own estimation, he had 
 signally failed. 
 
 A woman should some day write the complete philos- 
 ophy of clothes. No matter how young, it is one of the 
 things she wholly comprehends. There is an indescrib- 
 ably faint line in the matter of man's apparel which some- 
 how divides for her those who are worth glancing at 
 and those who are not. Once an individual has passed 
 this faint line on the way downward he will get no glance 
 from her. There is another line at which the dress of a 
 man will cause her to study her own. This line the indi- 
 vidual at her elbow now marked for Carrie. She became 
 conscious of an inequality. Her own plain blue dress, 
 with its black cotton tape trimmings, now seemed to her 
 shabby. She felt the worn state of her shoes.
 
 6 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 " Let's see," he went on, " I know quite a number of 
 people in your town. Morgenroth the clothier and Gib- 
 son the dry goods man." 
 
 " Oh, do you? " she interrupted, aroused by memories 
 of longings their show windows had cost her. 
 
 At last he had a clew to her interest, and followed it 
 deftly. In a few minutes he had come about into her 
 seat. He talked of sales of clothing, his travels, Chicago, 
 and the amusements of that city. 
 
 " If you are going there, you will enjoy it immensely. 
 Have you relatives? " 
 
 " I am going to visit my sister," she explained. 
 
 " You want to see Lincoln Park," he said, " and Michi- 
 gan Boulevard. They are putting up great buildings 
 there. It's a second New York great. So much to see 
 theatres, crowds, fine houses oh, you'll like that." 
 
 There was a little ache in her fancy of all he described. 
 Her insignificance in the presence of so much magnifi- 
 cence faintly affected her. She realised that hers was not 
 to be a round of pleasure, and yet there was something 
 promising in all the material prospect he set forth. There 
 was something satisfactory in the attention of this indi- 
 vidual with his good clothes. She could not help smiling 
 as he told her of some popular actress of whom she re- 
 minded him. She was not silly, and yet attention of this 
 sort had its weight. 
 
 " You will be in Chicago some little time, won't you ? " 
 he observed at one turn of the now easy conversation. 
 
 " I don't know," said Carrie vaguely a flash vision of 
 the possibility of her not securing employment rising in 
 her mind. 
 
 " Several weeks, anyhow," he said, looking steadily into 
 her eyes. 
 
 There was much more passing now than the mere 
 words indicated. He recognised the indescribable thing
 
 SISTER CARRIE 7 
 
 that made up for fascination and beauty in her. She 
 realised that she was of interest to him from the one 
 standpoint which a woman both delights in and fears. 
 Her manner was simple, though for the very reason that 
 she had not yet learned the many little affectations with 
 which women conceal their true feelings. Some things 
 she did appeared bold. A clever companion had she 
 ever had one would have warned her never to look a 
 man in the eyes so steadily. 
 
 " Why do you ask? " she said. 
 
 " Well, I'm going to be there several weeks. I'm going 
 to study stock at our place and get new samples. I might 
 show you 'round." 
 
 " I don't know whether you can or not. I mean I don't 
 know whether I can. I shall be living with my sister, 
 and " 
 
 " Well, if she minds, we'll fix that." He took out his 
 pencil and a little pocket note-book as if it were all settled. 
 " What is your address there? " 
 
 She fumbled her purse which contained the address 
 slip. 
 
 He reached down in his hip pocket and took out a fat 
 purse. It was filled with slips of paper, some mileage 
 books, a roll of greenbacks. It impressed her deeply. 
 Such a purse had never been carried by any one attentive 
 to her. Indeed, an experienced traveller, a brisk man of 
 the world, had never come within such close range before. 
 The purse, the shiny tan shoes, the smart new suit, and 
 the air with which he did things, built up for her a dim 
 world of fortune, of which he was the centre. It disposed 
 her pleasantly toward all he might do. 
 
 He took out a neat business card, on which was en- 
 graved Bartlett, Caryoe & Company, and down in the left- 
 hand corner, Chas. H. Drouet. 
 
 " That's me," he said, putting the card in her hand and
 
 8 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 touching his name. " It's pronounced Drew-eh. Our 
 family was French, on my father's side." 
 
 She looked at it while he put up his purse. Then he got 
 out a letter from a bunch in his coat pocket. " This is the 
 house I travel for," he went on, pointing to a picture on 
 it, " corner of State and Lake." There was pride in his 
 voice. He felt that it was something to be connected 
 with such a place, and he made her feel that way. 
 
 "What is your address?" he began again, fixing his 
 pencil to write. 
 
 She looked at his hand. 
 
 " Carrie Meeber," she said slowly. " Three hundred 
 and fifty-four West Van Buren Street, care S. C. Hanson." 
 
 He wrote it carefully down and got out the purse again. 
 " You'll be at home if I come around Monday night? " 
 he said. 
 
 " I think so," she answered. 
 
 How true it is that words are but the vague shadows of 
 the volumes we mean. Little audible links, they are, 
 chaining together great inaudible feelings and purposes. 
 Here were these two, bandying little phrases, drawing 
 purses, looking at cards, and both unconscious of how in- 
 articulate all their real feelings were. Neither was wise 
 enough to be sure of the working of the mind of the 
 other. He could not tell how his luring succeeded. She 
 could not realise that she was drifting, until he secured 
 her address. Now she felt that she had yielded some- 
 thing he, that he had gained a victory. Already they 
 felt that they were somehow associated. Already he took 
 control in directing the conversation. His words were 
 easy. Her manner was relaxed. 
 
 They were nearing Chicago. Signs were everywhere 
 numerous. Trains flashed by them. Across wide 
 stretches of flat, open prairie they could see lines of tele- 
 graph poles stalking across the fields toward the great
 
 SISTER CARRIE 9 
 
 city. Far away were indications of suburban towns, some 
 big smoke-stacks towering high in the air. 
 
 Frequently there were two-story frame houses stand- 
 ing out in the open fields, without fence or trees, lone out- 
 posts of the approaching army of homes. 
 
 To the child, the genius with imagination, or the wholly 
 untravelled, the approach to a great city for the first time 
 is a wonderful thing. Particularly if it be evening that 
 mystic period between the glare and gloom of the world 
 when life is changing from one sphere or condition to an- 
 other. Ah, the promise of the night. What does it not 
 hold for the weary! What old illusion of hope is not here 
 forever repeated! Says the soul of the toiler to itself, " I 
 shall soon be free. I shall be in the ways and the hosts 
 of the merry. The streets, the lamps, the lighted cham- 
 ber set for dining, are for me. The theatre, the halls, the 
 parties, the ways of rest and the paths of song these are 
 mine in the night." Though all humanity be still en- 
 closed in the shops, the thrill runs abroad. It is in the 
 air. The dullest feel something which they may not al- 
 ways express or describe. It is the lifting of the burden 
 of toil. 
 
 Sister Carrie gazed out of the window. Her com- 
 panion, affected by her wonder, so contagious are all 
 things, felt anew some interest in the city and pointed out 
 its marvels. 
 
 " This is Northwest Chicago," said Drouet. " This i* 
 the Chicago River," and he pointed to a little mudd>' 
 creek, crowded with the huge masted wanderers from far' 
 off waters nosing the black-posted banks. With a puff, 
 a clang, and a clatter of rails it was gone. " Chicago is 
 getting to be a great town," he went on. " It's a wonder. 
 You'll find lots to see here." 
 
 She did not hear this very well. Her heart was troubled 
 by a kind of terror. The fact that she was alone, away
 
 10 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 from home, rushing into a great sea of life and endeavour, 
 began to tell. She could not help but feel a little choked 
 for breath a little sick as her heart beat so fast. She half 
 closed her eyes and tried to think it was nothing, that 
 Columbia City was only a little way off. 
 
 " Chicago! Chicago! " called the brakeman, slamming 
 open the door. They were rushing into a more crowded 
 yard, alive with the clatter and clang of life. She began 
 to gather up her poor little grip and closed her hand firmly 
 upon her purse. Drouet arose, kicked his legs to 
 straighten his trousers, and seized his clean yellow grip. 
 
 " I suppose your people will be here to meet you? " he 
 said. " Let me carry your grip." 
 
 " Oh, no," she said. " I'd rather you wouldn't. I'd 
 rather you wouldn't be with me when I meet my sister." 
 
 " All right," he said in all kindness. " I'll be near, 
 though, in case she isn't here, and take you out there 
 safely." 
 
 " You're so kind," said Carrie, feeling the goodness of 
 such attention in her strange situation. 
 
 " Chicago! " called the brakeman, drawing the word 
 out long. They were under a great shadowy train shed, 
 where the lamps were already beginning to shine out, with 
 passenger cars all about and the train moving at a snail's 
 pace. The people in the car were all up and crowding 
 about the door. 
 
 " Well, here we are," said Drouet, leading the way to 
 the door. " Good-bye, till I see you Monday." 
 
 " Good-bye," she answered, taking his proffered 
 hand. 
 
 " Remember, I'll be looking till you find your sister." 
 
 She smiled into his eyes. 
 
 They filed out, and he affected to take no notice of her. 
 A lean-faced, rather commonplace woman recognised 
 Carrie on the platform and hurried forward.
 
 SISTER CARRIE II 
 
 " Why, Sister Carrie! " she began, and there was a per- 
 mnctory embrace of welcome. 
 
 Carrie realised the change of affectional atmosphere 
 at once. Amid all the maze, uproar, and novelty she felt 
 cold reality taking her by the hand. No world of light 
 and merriment. No round of amusement. Her sister 
 carried with her most of the grimness of shift and toil. 
 
 "Why, how are all the folks at home?" she began; 
 *' how is father, and mother? " 
 
 Carrie answered, but was looking away. Down the 
 aisle, toward the gate leading into the waiting-room and 
 the street, stood Drouet. He was looking back. When 
 he saw that she saw him and was safe with her sister he 
 turned to go, sending back the shadow of a smile. Only 
 Carrie saw it. She felt something lost to her when he 
 moved away. When he disappeared she felt his absence 
 thoroughly. With her sister she was much alone, a lone 
 figure in a tossing, thoughtless sea.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 WHAT POVERTY THREATENED: OF GRANITE AND BRASS 
 
 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 labourers and clerks, men who 
 had come, and were still coming, with the rush of popu- 
 lation 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. 
 
 Mrs. Hanson, after the first greetings were over, gave 
 Carrie the baby and proceeded to get supper. Her hus- 
 band asked a few questions and sat down to read the 
 evening paper. He was a silent man, American born, of 
 a Swede father, and now employed as r cleaner of refrig- 
 erator cars at the stock-yards. To him the presence or 
 absence of his wife's sister was a matter of indifference. 
 Her personal appearance did not affect him one way or 
 the other. His one observation to the point was con- 
 cerning the chances of work in Chicago. 
 
 " It's a big place," he said. " You can get in some 
 where in a few days. Everybody does."
 
 SISTER CARRIE 13 
 
 It had been tacitly understood beforehand that she was 
 to get work and pay her board. He was of a clean, sav- 
 ing disposition, and had already paid a number of monthly 
 instalments on two lots far out on the West Side. His 
 ambition was some day to build a house on them. 
 
 In the interval which marked the preparation of the 
 meal Carrie found time to study the flat. She had some 
 slight gift of observation and that sense, so rich in every 
 woman intuition. 
 
 She felt the drag of a lean and narrow life. The walls 
 of the rooms were discordantly papered. The floors were 
 covered with matting and the hall laid with a thin rag 
 carpet. One could see that the furniture was of that poor, 
 hurriedly patched together quality sold by the instalment 
 houses. 
 
 She sat with Minnie, in the kitchen, holding the baby 
 until it began to cry. Then she walked and sang to it, 
 until Hanson, disturbed in his reading, came and took it. 
 A pleasant side to his nature came out here. He was 
 patient. One could see that he was very much wrapped 
 up in his offspring. 
 
 " Now, now," he said, walking. " There, there," and 
 there was a certain Swedish accent noticeable in his voice. 
 
 "You'll want to see the city first, won't you?" said 
 Minnie, when they were eating. " Well, we'll go out 
 Sunday and see Lincoln Park." 
 
 Carrie noticed that Hanson had said nothing to this. 
 He seemed to be thinking of something else. 
 
 " Well," she said, " I think I'll look around to-morrow. 
 I've got Friday and Saturday, and it won't be any trouble. 
 Which way is the business part?" 
 
 Minnie began to explain, but her husband took this 
 part of the conversation to himself. 
 
 " It's that way," he said, pointing east. " That's east." 
 Then he went off into the longest speech he had yet in-
 
 I 4 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 dulged in, concerning the lay of Chicago. " You'd bet- 
 ter look in those big manufacturing houses along Fiank- 
 lin Street and just the other side of the river," he con- 
 cluded. " Lots of girls work there. You could get home 
 easy, too. It isn't very far." 
 
 Carrie nodded and asked her sister about the neigh- 
 bourhood. The latter talked in a subdued tone, telling 
 the little she knew about it, while Hanson concerned him- 
 self with the baby. Finally he jumped up and handed the 
 child to his wife. 
 
 " I've got to get up early in the morning, so I'll go to 
 bed," and off he went, disappearing into the dark little 
 bedroom off the hall, for the night. 
 
 " He works way down at the stock-yards," explained 
 Minnie, " so he's got to get up at half-past five." 
 
 "What time do you get up to get breakfast?" asked 
 Carrie. 
 
 " At about twenty minutes of five." 
 
 Together they finished the labour of the day, Carrie 
 washing the dishes while Minnie undressed the baby and 
 put it to bed. Minnie's manner was one of trained in- 
 dustry, and Carrie could see that it was a steady round of 
 toil with her. 
 
 She began to see that her relations with Drouet would 
 have to be abandoned. He could not come here. She 
 read from the manner of Hanson, in the subdued air of 
 Minnie, and, indeed, the whole atmosphere of the flat, a 
 settled opposition to anything save a conservative round 
 of toil. If Hanson sat every evening in the front room 
 and read his paper, if he went to bed at nine, and Minnie 
 a little later, what would they expect of her? She saw 
 that she would first need to get work and establish herself 
 on a paying basis before she could think of having com- 
 pany of any sort. Her little flirtation with Drouet seemed 
 now an extraordinary thing.
 
 SISTER CARRIE 1 5 
 
 " No," she said to herself, " he can't come here." 
 
 She asked Minnie for ink and paper, which were upon 
 the mantel in the dining-room, and when the latter had 
 gone to bed at ten, got out Drouet's card and wrote him. 
 
 " I cannot have you call on me here. You will have to 
 wait until you hear from me again. My sister's place is 
 so small." 
 
 She troubled herself over what else to put in the letter. 
 She wanted to make some reference to their relations 
 upon the train, but was too timid. She concluded by 
 thanking him for his kindness in a crude way, then puz- 
 zled over the formality of signing her name, and finally 
 decided upon the severe, winding up with a " Very truly," 
 which she subsequently changed to " Sincerely." She 
 sealed and addressed the letter, and going in the front 
 room, the alcove of which contained her bed, drew the 
 one small rocking-chair up to the open window, and sat 
 looking out upon the night and streets in silent wonder. 
 Finally, wearied by her own reflections, she began to 
 grow dull in her chair, and feeling the need of sleep, ar- 
 ranged her clothing for the night and went to bed. 
 
 When she awoke at eight the next morning, Hanson 
 had gone. Her sister was busy in the dining-room, which 
 was also the sitting-room, sewing. She worked, after 
 dressing, to arrange a little breakfast for herself, and then 
 advised with Minnie as to which way to look. The latter 
 had changed considerably since Carrie had seen her. She 
 was now a thin, though rugged, woman of twenty-seven, 
 with ideas of life coloured by her husband's, and fast hard- 
 ening into narrower conceptions of pleasure and duty than 
 had ever been hers in a thoroughly circumscribed youth. 
 She had invited Carrie, not because she longed for her 
 presence, but because the latter was dissatisfied at home, 
 and could probably get work and pay her board here. 
 She was pleased to see her in a way but reflected her hus-
 
 1 6 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 band's point of view in the matter of work. Anything 
 was good enough so long as it paid say, five dollars a 
 week to begin with. A shop girl was the destiny pre- 
 figured for the newcomer. She would get in one of the 
 great shops and do well enough until well, until some- 
 thing happened. Neither of them knew exactly what. 
 They did not figure on promotion. They did not exactly 
 count on marriage. Things would go on, though, in a 
 dim kind of way until the better thing would eventuate, 
 and Carrie would be rewarded for coming and toiling in 
 the city. It was under such auspicious circumstances 
 that she started out this morning to look for work. 
 
 Before following her in her round of seeking, let us 
 look at the sphere in which her future was to lie. In 1889 
 Chicago had the peculiar qualifications of growth which 
 made such adventuresome pilgrimages even on the part 
 of young girls plausible. Its many and growing com 
 mercial opportunities gave it widespread fame, which 
 made of it a giant magnet, drawing to itself, from all quar- 
 ters, the hopeful and the hopeless those who had their 
 fortune yet to make and those whose fortunes and affairs 
 had reached a disastrous climax elsewhere. It was a city 
 of over 500,000, with the ambition, the daring, the activity 
 of a metropolis of a million. Its streets and houses were 
 already scattered over an area of seventy-five square 
 miles. Its population was not so much thriving upon 
 established commerce as upon the industries which pre- 
 pared for the arrival of others. The sound of the ham- 
 mer engaged upon the erection of new structures was 
 everywhere heard. Great industries were moving in. 
 The huge railroad corporations which had long before 
 recognised the prospects of the place had seized upon 
 vast tracts of land for transfer and shipping purposes. 
 Street-car lines had been extended far out into the open 
 country in anticipation of rapid growth. The city had
 
 SISTER CARRIE 17 
 
 laid miles and miles of streets and sewers through regions 
 where, perhaps, one solitary house stood out alone a 
 pioneer of the populous ways to be. There were regions 
 open to the sweeping winds and rain, which were yet- 
 lighted throughout the night with long, blinking lines o< 
 gas-lamps, fluttering in the wind. Narrow board walks 
 extended out, passing here a house, and there a store, 
 at far intervals, eventually ending on the open prairie. 
 
 In the central portion was the vast wholesale and shop- 
 ping district, to which the uninformed seeker for work 
 usually drifted. It was a characteristic of Chicago then, 
 and one not generally shared by other cities, that indi- 
 vidual firms of any pretension occupied individual build- 
 ings. The presence of ample ground made this possible. 
 It gave an imposing appearance to most of the wholesale 
 houses, whose offices were upon the ground floor and in 
 plain view of the street. The large plates of window glass, 
 now so common, were then rapidly coming into use, and 
 gave to the ground floor offices a distinguished and pros- 
 perous look. The casual wanderer could see as he passed 
 a polished array of office fixtures, much frosted glass, 
 clerks hard at work, and genteel business men in " nobby " 
 suits and clean linen lounging about or sitting in groups,, 
 Polished brass or nickel signs at the square stone en- 
 trances announced the firm and the nature of the businesj 
 in rather neat and reserved terms. The entire metropoli- 
 tan centre possessed a high and mighty air calculated to 
 overawe and abash the common applicant, and to make 
 the gulf between poverty and success seem both wide and 
 deep. 
 
 Into this important commercial region the timid Carrie 
 went. She walked east along Van Buren Street through 
 a region of lessening importance, until it deteriorated into 
 a mass of shanties and coal-yards, and finally verged upon 
 the river. She walked bravely forward, led by an honest
 
 1 8 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 desire to find employment and delayed at every step by 
 the interest of the unfolding scene, and a sense of help- 
 lessness amid so much evidence of power and force which 
 she did not understand. These vast buildings, what were 
 they? These strange energies and huge interests, for 
 what purposes were they there? She could have under- 
 stood the meaning of a little stone-cutter's yard at Colum- 
 bia City, carving little pieces of marble for individual use, 
 but when the yards of some huge stone corporation came 
 into view, filled with spur tracks and flat cars, transpierced 
 by docks from the river and traversed overhead by im- 
 mense trundling cranes of wood and steel, it lost all sig- 
 nificance in her little world. 
 
 It was so with the vast railroad yards, with the crowded 
 array of vessels she saw at the river, and the huge factories 
 over the way, lining the water's edge. Through the open 
 windows she could see the figures of men and women in 
 working aprons, moving busily about. The great streets 
 were wall-lined mysteries to her; the vast offices, strange 
 mazes which concerned far-off individuals of importance. 
 She could only think of people connected with them as 
 counting money, dressing magnificently, and riding in 
 carriages. What they dealt in, how they laboured, to 
 what end it all came, she had only the vaguest concep- 
 tion. It was all wonderful, all vast, all far removed, and 
 she sank in spirit inwardly and fluttered feebly at the 
 heart as she thought of entering any one of these mighty 
 concerns and asking for something to do something 
 that she could do anything.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 WE QUESTION OF FORTUNE: FOUR-FIFTY A WEEK 
 
 Once across the river and into the wholesale district, 
 she glanced about her for some likely door at which to 
 apply. As she contemplated the wide windows and im- 
 posing signs, she became conscious of being gazed upon 
 and understood for what she was a wage-seeker. She 
 'had never done this thing before, and lacked courage. 
 To avoid a certain indefinable shame she felt at being 
 caught spying about for a position, she quickened her 
 steps and assumed an air of indifference supposedly com- 
 mon to one upon an errand. In this way she passed many 
 manufacturing and wholesale houses without once glan- 
 cing in. At last, after several blocks of walking, she felt 
 that this would not do, and began to look about again, 
 though without relaxing her pace. A little way on she 
 saw a great door which, for some reason, attracted her 
 attention. It was ornamented by a small brass sign, and 
 seemed to be the entrance to a vast hive of six or seven 
 floors. " Perhaps," she thought, " they may want some 
 one," and crossed over to enter. When she came within 
 a score of feet of the desired goal, she saw through the 
 window a young man in a grey checked suit. That he 
 had anything to do with the concern, she could not tell, 
 but because he happened to be looking in her direction 
 her weakening heart misgave her and she hurried by, too 
 overcome with shame to enter. Over the way stood a 
 great six-story structure, labelled Storm and King, which
 
 20 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 she viewed with rising hope. It was a wholesale dry 
 goods concern and employed women. She could see them 
 moving about now and then upon the upper floors. This 
 place she decided to enter, no matter what. She crossed 
 over and walked directly toward the entrance. As she 
 did so, two men came out and paused in the door. A tele- 
 graph messenger in blue dashed past her and up the few 
 steps that led to the entrance and disappeared. Several 
 pedestrians out of the hurrying throng which filled the 
 sidewalks passed about her as she paused, hesitating. She 
 looked helplessly around, and then, seeing herself ob- 
 served, retreated. It was too difficult a task. She could 
 not go past them. 
 
 So severe a defeat told sadly upon her nerves. Her feet 
 carried her mechanically forward, every foot of her prog- 
 ress being a satisfactory portion of a flight which she 
 gladly made. Block after block passed by. Upon street- 
 lamps at the various corners she read names such as Madi- 
 son, Monroe, La Salle, Clark, Dearborn, State, and still 
 she went, her feet beginning to tire upon the broad stone 
 flagging. She was pleased in part that the streets were 
 bright and clean. The morning sun, shining down with 
 steadily increasing warmth, made the shady side of the 
 streets pleasantly cool. She looked at the blue sky over- 
 head with more realisation of its charm than had ever 
 come to her before. 
 
 Her cowardice began to trouble her in a way. She 
 turned back, resolving to hunt up Storm and King and 
 enter. On the way she encountered a great wholesale 
 shoe company, through the broad plate windows of which 
 she saw an enclosed executive department, hidden by 
 frosted glass. Without this enclosure, but just within 
 the street entrance, sat a grey-haired gentleman at a small 
 table, with a large open ledger before him. She walked 
 by this institution several times hesitating, but, finding
 
 SISTER CARRIE 21 
 
 herself unobserved, faltered past the screen door and 
 stood humbly waiting. 
 
 " Well, young lady," observed the old gentleman, look- 
 ing at her somewhat kindly, " what is it you wish? " 
 
 " I am, that is, do you I mean, do you need any help?" 
 she stammered. 
 
 " Not just at present," he answered smiling. " Not 
 just at present. Come in some time next week. Occa- 
 sionally we need some one." 
 
 She received the answer in silence and backed awk- 
 wardly out. The pleasant nature of her reception rather 
 astonished her. She had expected that it would be more 
 difficult, that something cold and harsh would be said 
 she knew not what. That she had not been put to shame 
 and made to feel her unfortunate position, seemed re- 
 markable. 
 
 Somewhat encouraged, she ventured into another large 
 structure. It was a clothing company, and more people 
 were in evidence well-dressed men of forty and more, 
 surrounded by brass railings. 
 
 An office boy approached her. 
 
 " Who is it you wish to see? " he asked. 
 
 " I want to see the manager," she said. 
 
 He ran away and spoke to one of a group of three men 
 who were conferring together. One of these came to- 
 wards her. 
 
 " Well ? " he said coldly. The greeting drove all cour- 
 age from her at once. 
 
 " Do you need any help? " she stammered. 
 
 " No," he replied abruptly, and turned upon his heel. 
 
 She went foolishly out, the office boy deferentially 
 swirling the door for her, and gladly sank into the ob- 
 scuring crowd. It was a severe setback to her recently 
 pleased mental state. 
 
 Now she walked quite aimlessly for a time, turning here
 
 22 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 and there, seeing one great company after another, but 
 finding no courage to prosecute her single inquiry. High 
 noon came, and with it hunger. She hunted out an un- 
 assuming restaurant and entered, but was disturbed to 
 find that the prices were exorbitant for the size of her 
 purse. A bowl of soup was all that she could afford, and, 
 with this quickly eaten, she went out again. It restored 
 her strength somewhat and made her moderately bold to 
 pursue the search. 
 
 In walking a few blocks to fix upon some probable 
 place, she again encountered the firm of Storm and King, 
 and this time managed to get in. Some gentlemen were 
 conferring close at hand, but took no notice of her. She 
 was left standing, gazing nervously upon the floor. When 
 the limit of her distress had been nearly reached, she was 
 beckoned to by a man at one of the many desks within the 
 near-by railing. 
 
 " Who is it you wish to see ? " he inquired. 
 
 " Why, any one, if you please," she answered. " I am 
 looking for something to do." 
 
 " Oh, you want to see Mr. McManus," he returned. 
 " Sit down," and he pointed to a chair against the neigh- 
 bouring wall. He went on leisurely writing, until after a 
 time a short, stout gentleman came in from the street. 
 
 " Mr. McManus," called the man at the desk, " this 
 young woman wants to see you." 
 
 The short gentleman turned about towards Carrie, and 
 she arose and came forward. 
 
 " What can I do for you, miss ? " he inquired, survey- 
 ing her curiously. 
 
 " I want to know if I can get a position," she inquired. 
 
 " As what ? " he asked. 
 
 " Not as anything in particular," she faltered. 
 
 "Have you ever had any experience in the wholesale 
 dry goods business ? " he questioned.
 
 SISTER CARRIE 23 
 
 " 'No, sir," she replied. 
 
 " Are you a stenographer or typewriter? " 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 " Well, we haven't anything here," he said. " We em- 
 ploy only experienced help." 
 
 She began to step backward toward the door, when 
 something about her plaintive face attracted him. 
 
 " Have you ever worked at anything before?" he in- 
 quired. 
 
 " No, sir," she said. 
 
 " Well, now, it's hardly possible that you would get 
 anything to do in a wholesale house of this kind. Have 
 you tried the department stores?" 
 
 She acknowledged that she had not. 
 
 " Well, if I were you," he said, looking at her rather 
 genially, " I would try the department stores. They often 
 need young women as clerks." 
 
 " Thank you," she said, her whole nature relieved by 
 this spark of friendly interest. 
 
 " Yes," he said, as she moved toward the door, " you 
 try the department stores," and off he went. 
 
 At that time the department store was in its earliest 
 form of successful operation, and there were not many. 
 The first three in the United States, established about 
 1884, were in Chicago. Carrie was familiar with the 
 names of several through the advertisements in the 
 "Daily News," and now proceeded to seek them. The 
 words of Mr. McManus had somehow managed to restore 
 her courage, which had fallen low, and she dared to hope 
 that this new line would offer her something. Some time 
 she spent in wandering up and down, thinking to en- 
 counter the buildings by chance, so readily is the mind, 
 bent upon prosecuting a hard but needful errand, eased 
 by that self-deception which the semblance of search, 
 without the reality, gives. At last she inquired of a police
 
 24 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 officer, and was directed to proceed " two blocks up," 
 where she would find " The Fair." 
 
 The nature of these vast retail combinations, should 
 they ever permanently disappear, will form an interesting 
 chapter in the commercial history of our nation. Such 
 a flowering out of a modest trade principle the world had 
 never witnessed up to that time. They were along the 
 line of the most effective retail organisation, with hun- 
 dreds of stores coordinated into one and laid out upon 
 the most imposing and economic basis. They were hand- 
 some, bustling, successful affairs, with a host of clerks 
 and a swarm of patrons. Carrie passed along the busy 
 aisles, much affected by the remarkable displays of trin- 
 kets, dress goods, stationery, and jewelry. Each separate 
 counter was a show place of dazzling interest and attrac- 
 tion. She could not help feeling the claim of each trinket 
 and valuable upon her personally, and yet she did not 
 stop. There was nothing there which she could not have 
 used nothing which she did not long to own. The 
 dainty slippers and stockings, the delicately frilled skirts 
 and petticoats, the laces, ribbons, hair-combs, purses, all 
 touched her with individual desire, and she felt keenly 
 the fact that not any of these things were in the range of 
 her purchase. She was a work-seeker, an outcast without 
 employment, one whom the average employee could tell 
 at a glance was poor and in need of a situation. 
 
 It must not be thought that any one could have mis- 
 taken her for a nervous, sensitive, high-strung nature, 
 cast unduly upon a cold, calculating, and unpoetic world. 
 Such certainly she was not. But women are peculiarly 
 sensitive to their adornment. 
 
 Not only did Carrie feel the drag of desire for all which 
 was new and pleasing in apparel for women, but she no- 
 ticed too, with a touch at the heart, the fine ladies who 
 elbowed and ignored her, brushing past in utter disregard
 
 SISTER CARRIE 25 
 
 of her presence, themselves eagerly enlisted in the mate- 
 rials which the store contained. Carrie was not familiar 
 with the appearance of her more fortunate sisters of the 
 city. Neither had she before known the nature and ap- 
 pearance of the shop girls with whom she now compared 
 poorly. They were pretty in the main, some even hand- 
 some, with an air of independence and indifference which 
 added, in the case of the more favoured, a certain 
 piquancy. Their clothes were neat, in many instances 
 fine, and wherever she encountered the eye of one it was 
 only to recognise in it a keen analysis of her own position 
 her individual shortcomings of dress and that shadow 
 of manner which she thought must hang about her and 
 make clear to all who and what she was. A flame of envy 
 lighted in her heart. She realised in a dim way how 
 much the city held wealth, fashion, ease every adorn- 
 ment for women, and she longed for dress and beauty 
 with a whole heart. 
 
 On the second floor were the managerial offices, to 
 which, after some inquiry, she was now directed. There 
 she found other girls ahead of her, applicants like herself, 
 but with more of that self-satisfied and independent air 
 which experience of the city lends; girls who scrutinised 
 her in a painful manner. After a wait of perhaps three- 
 quarters of an hour, she was called in turn. 
 
 " Now," said a sharp, quick-mannered Jew, who was 
 sitting at a roll-top desk near the window, " have you ever 
 worked in any other store?" 
 
 " No, sir," said Carrie. 
 
 " Oh, you haven't," he said, eyeing her keenly. 
 
 " No, sir," she replied. 
 
 " Well, we prefer young women just now with some 
 experience. I guess we can't use you." 
 
 Carrie stood waiting a moment, hardly certain whether 
 the interview had terminated.
 
 2 6 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 "Don't wait!" he exclaimed. "Remember we are 
 very busy here." 
 
 Carrie began to move quickly to the door. 
 
 " Hold on," he said, calling her back. " Give me your 
 name and address. We want girls occasionally." 
 
 When she had gotten safely into the street, she could 
 scarcely restrain the tears. It was not so much the partic- 
 ular rebuff which she had just experienced, but the whole 
 abashing trend of the day. She was tired and nervous. 
 She abandoned the thought of appealing to the other de- 
 partment stores and now wandered on, feeling a certain 
 safety and relief in mingling with the crowd. 
 
 In her indifferent wandering she turned into Jackson 
 Street, not far from the river, and was keeping her way 
 along the south side of that imposing thoroughfare, when 
 a piece of wrapping paper, written on with marking ink 
 and tacked up on the door, attracted her attention. It 
 read, " Girls wanted wrappers & stitchers." She hesi- 
 tated a moment, then entered. 
 
 1 The firm of Speigelheim & Co., makers of boys' caps, 
 occupied one floor of the building, fifty feet in width and 
 some eighty feet in depth. It was a place rather dingily 
 lighted, the darkest portions having incandescent lights, 
 filled with machines and work benches. At the latter 
 laboured quite a company of girls and some men. The 
 former were drabby-looking creatures, stained in face with 
 oil and dust, clad in thin, shapeless, cotton dresses and 
 shod with more or less worn shoes. Many of them had 
 their sleeves rolled up, revealing bare arms, and in some 
 cases, owing to the heat, their dresses were open at the 
 neck. They were a fair type of nearly the lowest order 
 of shop-girls careless, slouchy, and more or less pale 
 from confinement. They were not timid, however; were 
 7ich in curiosity, and strong in daring and slang. 
 
 Carrie looked about her, very much disturbed and quite
 
 SISTER CARRIE 27 
 
 sure that she did not want to work here. Aside from 
 making her uncomfortable by sidelong glances, no one 
 paid her the least attention. She waited until the whole 
 department was aware of her presence. Then some word 
 was sent around, and a foreman, in an apron and shirt 
 sleeves, the latter rolled up co his shoulders, approached. 
 
 " Do you want to see me? " he asked. 
 
 " Do you need any help? " said Carrie, already learning 
 directness of address. 
 
 " Do you know how to stitch caps? " he returned. 
 
 " No, sir," she replied. 
 
 " Have you ever had any experience at this kind of 
 work? " he inquired. 
 
 She answered that she had not. 
 
 " Well," said the foreman, scratching his ear medita- 
 tively, " we do need a stitcher. We like experienced help, 
 though. We've hardly got time to break people in." He 
 paused and looked away out of the window. " We might, 
 though, put you at finishing," he concluded reflectively. 
 
 " How much do you pay a week ? " ventured Carrie, 
 emboldened by a certain softness in the man's manner 
 and his simplicity of address. 
 
 " Three and a half," he answered. 
 
 " Oh," she was about to exclaim, but checked herself 
 and allowed her thoughts to die without expression. 
 
 " We're not exactly in need of anybody," he went on 
 vaguely, looking her over as one would a package. " You 
 can come on Monday morning, though," he added, " and 
 I'll put you to work." 
 
 " Thank you," said Carrie weakly. 
 
 " If you come, bring an apron," he added. 
 
 He walked away and left her standing by the elevator, 
 never so much as inquiring her name. 
 
 While the appearance of the shop and the announce- 
 ment of the price paid per week operated very much as a
 
 2B SISTER CARRIE 
 
 blow to Carrie's fancy, the fact that work of any kind was 
 offered after so rude a round of experience was gratifying. 
 She could not begin to believe that she would take the 
 place, modest as her aspirations were. She had been used 
 to better than that. Her mere experience and the free 
 out-of-door life of the country caused her nature to revolt 
 at such confinement. Dirt had never been her share. 
 Her sister's flat was clean. This place was grimy and 
 low, the girls were careless and hardened. They must be 
 bad-minded and hearted, she imagined. Still, a place had 
 been offered her. Surely Chicago was not so bad if she 
 could find one place in one day. She might find another 
 and better later. 
 
 Her subsequent experiences were not of a reassuring 
 nature, however. From all the more pleasing or impos- 
 ing places she was turned away abruptly with the most 
 chilling formality. In others where she applied only the 
 experienced were required. She met with painful rebuffs, 
 the most trying of which had been in a manufacturing 
 cloak house, where she had gone to the fourth floor to 
 inquire. 
 
 " No, no," said the foreman, a rough, heavily built in- 
 dividual, who looked after a miserably lighted workshop, 
 " we don't want any one. Don't come here." 
 
 With the wane of the afternoon went her hopes, her 
 courage, and her strength. She had been astonishingly 
 persistent. So earnest an effort was well deserving of a 
 better reward. On every hand, to her fatigued senses, 
 the great business portion grew larger, harder, more 
 stolid in its indifference. It seemed as if it was all closed 
 to her, that the struggle was too fierce for her to hope to 
 do anything at all. Men and women hurried by in long, 
 shifting lines. She felt the flow of the tide of effort and 
 interest felt her own helplessness without quite realising 
 the wisp on the tide that she was. She cast about vainly
 
 SISTER CARRIE 29 
 
 for some possible place to apply, but found no door which 
 she had the courage to enter. It would be the same thing 
 all over. The old humiliation of her plea, rewarded by 
 curt denial. Sick at heart and in body, she turned to the 
 west, the direction of Minnie's fiat, which she had now 
 fixed in mind, and began that wearisome, baffled retreat 
 which the seeker for employment at nightfall too often 
 makes. In passing through Fifth Avenue, south towards 
 Van Buren Street, where she intended to take a car, she 
 passed the door of a large wholesale shoe house, through 
 the plate-glass window of which she could see a middle- 
 aged gentleman sitting at a small desk. One of those 
 forlorn impulses which often grow out of a fixed sense of 
 defeat, the last sprouting of a baffled and uprooted growth 
 of ideas, seized upon her. She walked deliberately 
 through the door and up to the gentleman, who looked at 
 her weary face with partially awakened interest. 
 
 "What is it? "he said. 
 
 " Can you give me something to do? " said Carrie. 
 
 " 'Now, I really don't know," he said kindly. " What 
 kind of work is it you want you're not a typewriter, are 
 you?" 
 
 " Oh, no," answered Carrie. 
 
 " Well, we only employ book-keepers and typewriters 
 here. You might go around to the side and inquire up- 
 stairs. They did want some help upstairs a few days ago. 
 Ask for Mr. Brown." 
 
 She hastened around to the side entrance and was taken 
 up by the elevator to the fourth floor. 
 
 " Call Mr. Brown, Willie," said the elevator man to a 
 boy near by. 
 
 Willie went off and presently returned with the infor- 
 mation that Mr. Brown said she should sit down and that 
 he would be around in a little while. 
 
 It was a portion of the stock room which gave no idea
 
 30 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 of the general character of the place, and Carrie could 
 form no opinion of the nature of the work. 
 
 " So you want something to do," said Mr. Brown, after 
 he inquired concerning the nature of her errand. " Have 
 you ever been employed in a shoe factory before? " 
 
 " No, sir," said Carrie. 
 
 " What is your name? " he inquired, and being in- 
 formed, " Well, I don't know as I have anything for you. 
 Would you work for four and a half a week? " 
 
 Carrie was too worn by defeat not to feel that it was 
 considerable. She had not expected that he would offer 
 her less than six. She acquiesced, however, and he took 
 her name and address. 
 
 " Well," he said, finally, " you report here at eight 
 o'clock Monday morning. I think I can find something 
 for you to do." 
 
 He left her revived by the possibilities, sure that she had 
 found something at last. Instantly the blood crept 
 warmly over her body. Her nervous tension relaxed. 
 She walked out into the busy street and discovered a new 
 atmosphere. Behold, the throng was moving with a 
 lightsome step. She noticed that men and women were 
 smiling. Scraps of conversation and notes of laughter 
 floated to her. The air was light. People were already 
 pouring out of the buildings, their labour ended for the 
 day. She noticed that they were pleased, and thoughts 
 of her sister's home and the meal that would be awaiting 
 her quickened her steps. She hurried on, tired perhaps, 
 but no longer weary of foot. What would not Minnie 
 say! Ah, the long winter in Chicago the lights, the 
 crowd, the amusement! This was a great, pleasing me- 
 tropolis after all. Her new firm was a goodly institution. 
 Its windows were of huge plate glass. She could prob- 
 ably do well there. Thoughts of Drouet returned of the 
 things he had told her. She now felt that life was better,
 
 SISTER CARRIE 31 
 
 that it was livelier, sprightlier. She boarded a car in the 
 best of spirits, feeling her blood still flowing pleasantly. 
 She would live in Chicago, her mind kept saying to itself. 
 She would have a better time than she had ever had before 
 she would be happy
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 
 THE SPENDINGS OF FANCY : FACTS ANSWER WITH SNEERS 
 
 For the next two days Carrie indulged in the most high- 
 flown speculations. 
 
 Her fancy plunged recklessly into privileges and 
 amusements which would have been much more becom- 
 ing had she been cradled a child of fortune. With ready 
 will and quick mental selection she scattered her meagre 
 four-fifty per week with a swift and graceful hand. In- 
 deed, as she sat in her rocking-chair these several even- 
 ings before going to bed and looked out upon the pleas- 
 antly lighted street, this money cleared for its prospective 
 possessor the way to every joy and every bauble which the 
 heart of woman may desire. " I will have a fine time," 
 she thought. 
 
 Her sister Minnie knew nothing of these rather wild 
 cerebrations, though they exhausted the markets of de- 
 light. She was too busy scrubbing the kitchen wood- 
 work and calculating the purchasing power of eighty 
 cents for Sunday's dinner. When Carrie had returned 
 home, flushed with her first success and ready, for all 
 her weariness, to discuss the now interesting events which 
 led up to her achievement, the former had merely smiled 
 approvingly and inquired whether she would have to 
 spend any of it for car fare. This consideration had not 
 entered in before, and it did not now for long affect the 
 glow of Carrie's enthusiasm. Disposed as she then was 
 to calculate upon that vague basis which allows the sub-
 
 SISTER CARRIE 33 
 
 traction of one sum from another without any perceptible 
 diminution, she was happy. 
 
 When Hanson came home at seven o'clock, he was in- 
 clined to be a little crusty his usual demeanour before 
 supper. This never showed so much in anything he said 
 as in a certain solemnity of countenance and the silent 
 manner in which he slopped about. He had a pair o{ 
 yellow carpet slippers which he enjoyed wearing, and 
 these he would immediately substitute for his solid pah 1 
 of shoes. This, and washing his face with the aid of com" 
 mon washing soap until it glowed a shiny red, constituted 
 his only preparation for his evening meal. He would 
 then get his evening paper and read in silence. 
 
 For a young man, this was rather a morbid turn ot 
 character, and so affected Carrie. Indeed, it affected the 
 entire atmosphere of the flat, as such things are inclined 
 to do, and gave to his wife's mind its subdued and tactful 
 turn, anxious to avoid taciturn replies. Under the influ- 
 ence of Carrie's announcement he brightened up some< 
 what. 
 
 "You didn't lose any time, did you?" he remarked, 
 smiling a little. 
 
 " No," returned Carrie with a touch of pride. 
 
 He asked her one or two more questions and then 
 turned to play with the baby, leaving the subject until it 
 was brought up again by Minnie at the table. 
 
 Carrie, however, was not to be reduced to the common 
 level of observation which prevailed in the flat. 
 
 " It seems to be such a large company," she said, at one 
 place. " Great big plate-glass windows and lots of clerks. 
 The man I saw said they hired ever so many people." 
 
 " It's not very hard to get work now," put in Hanson, 
 " if you look right." 
 
 Minnie, under the warming influence of Carrie's good 
 spirits and her husband's somewhat conversational mood,
 
 34 
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 began to tell Carrie of some of the well-known things to 
 see things the enjoyment of which cost nothing. 
 
 " You'd like to see Michigan Avenue. There are such 
 fine houses. It is such a fine street." 
 
 " Where is ' H. R. Jacob's '? " interrupted Carrie, men- 
 tioning one of the theatres devoted to melodrama which 
 went by that name at the time. 
 
 " Oh, it's not very far from here," answered Minnie. 
 " It's in Halstead Street, right up here." 
 
 " How I'd like to go there. I crossed Halstead Street 
 to-day, didn't I? " 
 
 At this there was a slight halt in the natural reply. 
 Thoughts are a strangely permeating factor. At her sug- 
 gestion of going to the theatre, the unspoken shade of dis- 
 approval to the doing of those things which involved the 
 expenditure of money shades of feeling which arose in 
 the mind of Hanson and then in Minnie slightly affected 
 the atmosphere of the table. Minnie answered " yes," but 
 Carrie could feel that going to the theatre was poorly 
 advocated here. The subject was put off for a little while 
 until Hanson, through with his meal, took his paper and 
 went into the front room. 
 
 When they were alone, the two sisters began a some- 
 what freer conversation, Carrie interrupting it to hum a 
 little, as they worked at the dishes. 
 
 " I should like to walk up and see Halstead Street, if it 
 isn't too far," said Carrie, after a time. " Why don't we 
 go to the theatre to-night ? " 
 
 " Oh, I don't think Sven would want to go to-night," 
 returned Minnie. " He has to get up so early." 
 
 " He wouldn't mind he'd enjoy it," said Carrie. 
 
 " No, he doesn't go very often," returned Minnie. 
 
 " Well, I'd like to go," rejoined Carrie. " Let's you 
 and me go." 
 
 Minnie pondered a while, not upon whether she could
 
 SISTER CARRIE 35 
 
 or would go for that point was already negatively set- 
 tled with her but upon some means of diverting the 
 thoughts of her sister to some other topic. 
 
 " We'll go some other time," she said at last, finding 
 no ready means of escape. 
 
 Carrie sensed the root of the opposition at once. 
 
 " I have some money," she said. " You go with me." 
 
 Minnie shook her head. 
 
 " He could go along," said Carrie. 
 
 " No," returned Minnie softly, and rattling the dishes to 
 drown the conversation. " He wouldn't." 
 
 It had been several years since Minnie had seen Carrie, 
 and in that time the latter's character had developed a few 
 shades. Naturally timid in all things that related to her 
 own advancement, and especially so when without power 
 or resource, her craving for pleasure was so strong that it 
 was the one stay of her nature. She would speak for that 
 when silent on all else. 
 
 " Ask him," she pleaded softly. 
 
 Minnie was thinking of the resource which Carrie's 
 board would add. It would pay the rent and would make 
 the subject of expenditure a little less difficult to talk 
 about with her husband. But if Carrie was going to think 
 of running around in the beginning there would be a 
 hitch somewhere. Unless Carrie submitted to a solemn 
 round of industry and saw the need of hard work without 
 longing for play, how was her coming to the city to profit 
 them? These thoughts were not those of a cold, hard 
 nature at all. They were the serious reflections of a mind 
 which invariably adjusted itself, without much complain- 
 ing, to such surroundings as its industry could make for 
 it. 
 
 At last she yielded enough to ask Hanson. It was a 
 half-hearted procedure without a shade of desire on her 
 part.
 
 36 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 " Carrie wants us to go to the theatre," she said, looking 
 in upon her husband. Hanson looked up from his paper, 
 and they exchanged a mild look, which said as plainly as 
 anything: " This isn't what we expected." 
 
 " I don't care to go," he returned. " What does she 
 want to see? " 
 
 " H. R. Jacob's," said Minnie. 
 
 He looked down at his paper and shook his head nega- 
 tively. 
 
 When Carrie saw how they looked upon her proposi- 
 tion, she gained a still clearer feeling of their way of life. 
 It weighed on her,but took no definite form of opposition. 
 
 " I think I'll go down and stand at the foot of the 
 stairs," she said, after a time. 
 
 Minnie made no objection to this, and Carrie put on her 
 hat and went below. 
 
 " Where has Carrie gone? " asked Hanson, coming 
 back into the dining-room when he heard the door close. 
 
 " She said she was going down to the foot of the stairs," 
 answered Minnie. " I guess she just wants to look out 
 a while." 
 
 " She oughtn't to be thinking about spending her 
 money on theatres already, do you think? " he said. 
 
 " She just feels a little curious, I guess," ventured 
 Minnie. " Everything is so new." 
 
 " I don't know," said Hanson, and went over to the 
 baby, his forehead slightly wrinkled. 
 
 He was thinking of a full career of vanity and wasteful- 
 ness which a young girl might indulge in, and wondering 
 how Carrie could contemplate such a course when she 
 had so little, as yet, with which to do. 
 
 On Saturday Carrie went out by herself first toward 
 the river, which interested her, and then back along Jack- 
 son Street, which was then lined by the pretty houses and 
 fine lawns which subsequently caused it to be made into
 
 SISTER CARRIE 37 
 
 a boulevard. She was struck with the evidences of wealth, 
 although there was, perhaps, not a person on the street 
 worth more than a hundred thousand dollars. She was 
 glad to be out of the flat, because already she felt that it 
 was a narrow, humdrum place, and that interest and joy 
 lay elsewhere. Her thoughts now were of a more liberal 
 character, and she punctuated them with speculations as 
 to the whereabouts of Drouet. She was not sure but that 
 he might call anyhow Monday night, and, while she felt 
 a little disturbed at the possibility, there was, neverthe- 
 less, just the shade of a wish that he would. 
 
 On Monday she arose early and prepared to go to work. 
 She dressed herself in a worn shirt-waist of dotted blue 
 percale, a skirt of light-brown serge rather faded, and a 
 small straw hat which she had worn all summer at Colum- 
 bia City. Her shoes were old, and her necktie was in 
 that crumpled, flattened state which time and much wear^ 
 ing impart. She made a very average looking shop-girl 
 with the exception of her features. These were slightly 
 more even than common, and gave her a sweet, reserved, 
 and pleasing appearance. 
 
 It is no easy thing to get up early in the morning when 
 one is used to sleeping until seven and eight, as Carrie had 
 been at home. She gained some inkling of the character 
 of Hanson's life when, half asleep, she looked out into 
 the dining-room at six o'clock and saw him silently fin- 
 ishing his breakfast. By the time she was dressed he was 
 gone, and she, Minnie, and the baby ate together, the lat- 
 ter being just old enough to sit in a high chair and disturb 
 the dishes with a spoon. Her spirits were greatly sub- 
 dued now when the fact of entering upon strange and un- 
 tried duties confronted her. Only the ashes of all her 
 fine fancies were remaining ashes still concealing, never- 
 theless, a few red embers of hope. So subdued was she 
 by her weakening nerves, that she ate quite in silence.
 
 38 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 going over imaginary conceptions of the character of the 
 shoe company, the nature of the work, her employer's atti- 
 tude. She was vaguely feeling that she would come in 
 contact with the great owners, that her work would be 
 where grave, stylishly dressed men occasionally look on. 
 
 " Well, good luck," said Minnie, when she was ready 
 to go. They had agreed it was best to walk, that morning 
 at least, to see if she could do it every day sixty cents a 
 week for car fare being quite an item under the circum- 
 stances. 
 
 " I'll tell you how it goes to-night," said Carrie. 
 
 Once in the sunlit street, with labourers tramping by in 
 either direction, the horse-cars passing crowded to the 
 rails with the small clerks and floor help in the great 
 wholesale houses, and men and women generally coming 
 out of doors and passing about the neighbourhood, Carrie 
 felt slightly reassured. In the sunshine of the morning, 
 beneath the wide, blue heavens, with a fresh wind astir, 
 what fears, except the most desperate, can find a harbour- 
 age? In the night, or the gloomy chambers of the day, 
 fears and misgivings wax strong, but out in the sunlight 
 there is, for a time, cessation even of the terror of death. 
 
 Carrie went straight forward until she crossed the river, 
 and then turned into Fifth Avenue. The thoroughfare, 
 in this part, was like a walled canon of brown stone and 
 dark red brick. The big windows looked shiny and clean. 
 Trucks were rumbling in increasing numbers; men and 
 women, girls and boys were moving onward in all direc- 
 tions. She met girls of her own age, who looked at her 
 as if with contempt for her diffidence. She wondered at 
 the magnitude of this life and at the importance of know- 
 ing much in order to do anything in it at all. Dread at 
 her own inefficiency crept upon her. She would not 
 know how, she would not be quick enough. Had not all 
 the other places refused her because she did not know
 
 SISTER CARRIE 39 
 
 something or other? She would be scolded, abused, igno- 
 miniously discharged. 
 
 It was with weak knees and a slight catch in her breath- 
 ing that she came up to the great shoe company at Adams 
 and Fifth Avenue and entered the elevator. When she 
 stepped out on the fourth floor there was no one at hand, 
 only great aisles of boxes piled to the ceiling. She stood, 
 very much frightened, awaiting some one. 
 
 Presently Mr. Brown came up. He did not seem to 
 recognise her. 
 
 " What is it you want? " he inquired. 
 
 Carrie's heart sank. 
 
 " You said I should come this morning to see about 
 work " 
 
 " Oh," he interrupted. " Um yes. What is your 
 name?" 
 
 " Carrie Meeber." 
 
 " Yes," said he. " You come with me." 
 
 He led the way through dark, box-lined aisles which 
 had the smell of new shoes, until they came to an iron 
 door which opened into the factory proper. There was a 
 large, low-ceiled room, with clacking, rattling machines 
 at which men in white shirt sleeves and blue gingham 
 aprons were working. She followed him diffidently 
 through the clattering automatons, keeping her eyes 
 straight before her, and flushing slightly. They crossed 
 to a far corner and took an elevator to the sixth floor. 
 Out of the array of machines and benches, Mr. Brown 
 signalled a foreman. 
 
 " This is the girl," he said, and turning to Carrie, " You 
 go with him." He then returned, and Carrie followed her 
 new superior to a little desk in a corner, which he used 
 as a, kind of official centre. 
 
 " You've never worked at anything like this before, 
 have you? " he questioned, rather sternly.
 
 40 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 " No, sir," she answered. 
 
 He seemed rather annoyed at having to bother with 
 fuch help, but put down her name and then led her across 
 to where a line of girls occupied stools in front of clacking 
 machines. On the shoulder of one of the girls who was 
 punching eye-holes in one piece of the upper, by the aid 
 of the machine, he put his hand. 
 
 " You," he said, " show this girl how to do what you're 
 doing. When you get through, come to me." 
 
 The girl so addressed rose promptly and gave Carrie 
 her place. 
 
 " It isn't hard to do," she said, bending over. " You 
 just take this so, fasten it with this clamp, and start the 
 machine." 
 
 She suited action to word, fastened the piece of leather, 
 which was eventually to form the right half of the upper 
 of a man's shoe, by little adjustable clamps, and pushed 
 a small steel rod at the side of the machine. The latter 
 jumped to the task of punching, with sharp, snapping 
 clicks, cutting circular bits of leather out of the side of the 
 upper, leaving the holes which were to hold the laces. 
 After observing a few times, the girl let her work at if 
 *lone. Seeing that it was fairly well done, she went away. 
 
 The pieces of leather came from the girl at the machine 
 to her right, and were passed on to the girl at her left. 
 Carrie saw at once that an average speed was necessary 
 or the work would pile up on her and all those below 
 would be delayed. She had no time to look about, and 
 bent anxiously to her task. The girls at her left and right 
 realised her predicament and feelings, and, in a way, tried 
 to aid her, as much as they dared, by working slower. 
 
 At this task she laboured incessantly for some time, 
 finding relief from her own nervous fears and imaginings 
 in the humdrum, mechanical movement of the machine. 
 She felt, as the minutes passed, that the room was not very
 
 SISTER CARRIE 41 
 
 light. It had a thick odour of fresh leather, but that did 
 not worry her. She felt the eyes of the other help upon 
 her, and troubled lest she was not working fast enough. 
 
 Once, when she was fumbling at the little clamp, having 
 made a slight error in setting in the leather, a great hand 
 appeared before her eyes and fastened the clamp for her. 
 It was the foreman. Her heart thumped so that she could 
 scarcely see to go on. 
 
 " Start your machine," he said, " start your machine. 
 Don't keep the line waiting." 
 
 This recovered her sufficiently and she went excitedly 
 on, hardly breathing until the shadow moved away from 
 behind her. Then she heaved a great breath. 
 
 As the morning wore on the room became hotter. She 
 felt the need of a breath of fresh air and a drink of water, 
 but did not venture to stir. The stool she sat on was 
 without a back or foot-rest, and she began to feel uncom- 
 fortable. She found, after a time, that her back was be- 
 ginning to ache. She twisted and turned from one posi- 
 tion to another slightly different, but it did not ease her 
 for long. She was beginning to weary. 
 
 " Stand up, why don't you ? " said the girl at her right, 
 without any form of introduction. " They won't care." 
 
 Carrie looked at her gratefully. " I guess I will," she 
 said. 
 
 She stood up from her stool and worked that way for a 
 while, but it was a more difficult position. Her neck and 
 shoulders ached in bending over. 
 
 The spirit of the place impressed itself on her in a rough 
 way. She did not venture to look around, but above the 
 clack of the machine she could hear an occasional remark. 
 She could also note a thing or two out of the side of her 
 eye. 
 
 " Did you see Harry last night? " said the girl at her 
 left, addressing her neighbour.
 
 
 42 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 " No." 
 
 " You ought to have seen the tie he had on. Gee, but 
 he was a mark." 
 
 " S-s-t," said the other girl, bending over her work. 
 The first, silenced, instantly assumed a solemn face. The 
 foreman passed slowly along, eyeing each worker dis- 
 tinctly. The moment he was gone, the conversation was 
 resumed again. 
 
 " Say," began the girl at her left, " what jeh think he 
 said?"" 
 
 " I don't know." 
 
 " He said he saw us with Eddie Harris at Martin's last 
 night." 
 
 "No!" They both giggled. 
 
 A youth with tan-coloured hair, that needed clipping 
 very badly, came shuffling along between the machines, 
 bearing a basket of leather findings under his left arm, 
 and pressed against his stomach. When near Carrie, he 
 stretched out his right hand and gripped one girl under 
 the arm. 
 
 " Aw, let me go," she exclaimed angrily. " Duffer." 
 
 He only grinned broadly in return. 
 
 " Rubber ! " he called back as she looked after him. 
 There was nothing of the gallant in him. 
 
 Carrie at last could scarcely sit still. Her legs began 
 to tire and she wanted to get up and stretch. Would noon 
 never come? It seemed as if she had worked an entire 
 day. She was not hungry at all, but weak, and her eyes 
 were tired, straining at the one point where the eye-punch 
 came down. The girl at the right noticed her squirmings 
 and felt sorry for her. She was concentrating herself too 
 thoroughly what she did really required less mental and 
 physical strain. There was nothing to be done, however. 
 The halves of the uppers came piling steadily down. Her 
 'iands began to ache at the wrists and then in the fingers.
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 43 
 
 and towards the last she seemed one mass of dull, com- 
 plaining muscles, fixed in an eternal position and per- 
 forming a single mechanical movement which became 
 more and more distasteful, until at last it was absolutely 
 nauseating. When she was wondering whether the strain 
 would ever cease, a dull-sounding bell clanged somewhere 
 down an elevator shaft, and the end came. In an instant 
 there was a buzz of action and conversation. All the girls 
 instantly left their stools and hurried away in an adjoin- 
 ing room, men passed through, coming from some depart- 
 ment which opened on the right. The whirling wheels 
 began to sing in a steadily modifying key, until at last they 
 died away in a low buzz. There was an audible stillness, 
 in which the common voice sounded strange. 
 
 Carrie got up and sought her lunch box. She was stiff, 
 a little dizzy, and very thirsty. On the way to the small 
 space portioned off by wood, where all the wraps and 
 lunches were kept, she encountered the foreman, who 
 stared at her hard. 
 
 " Well," he said, " did you get along all right? " 
 
 " I think so," she replied, very respectfully. 
 
 " Urn," he replied, for want of something better, and 
 walked on. 
 
 Under better material conditions, this kind of work 
 would not have been so bad, but the new socialism 
 which involves pleasant working conditions for em- 
 ployees had not then taken hold upon manufacturing 
 companies. 
 
 The place smelled of the oil of the machines and the new 
 leather a combination which, added to the stale odours 
 of the building, was not pleasant even in cold weather. 
 The floor, though regularly swept every evening, pre- 
 sented a littered surface. Not the slightest provision had 
 been made for the comfort of the employees, the idea 
 being that something was gained by giving them as little
 
 44 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 and making the work as hard and unremunerative as pos- 
 sible. What we know of foot-rests, swivel-back chairs, 
 dining-j ooms for the girls, clean aprons and curling irons 
 supplied free, and a decent cloak room, were unthought 
 of. The washrooms were disagreeable, crude, if not foul 
 places, and the whole atmosphere was sordid. 
 
 Carrie looked about her, after she had drunk a tinful of 
 water from a bucket in one corner, for a place to sit and 
 eat. The other girls had ranged themselves about the 
 windows or the work-benches of those of the men who had 
 gone out. She saw no place which did not hold a couple 
 or a #roup of girls, and being too timid to think of intrud- 
 ing h-erself, she sought out her machine and, seated upon 
 her stool, opened her lunch on her lap. There she sat 
 listening to the chatter and comment about her. It was, 
 for the most part, silly and graced by the current slang. 
 Several of the men in the room exchanged compliments 
 with the girls at long range. 
 
 " Say, Kitty," called one to a girl who was doing a waltz 
 Btep in a few feet of space near one of the windows, " are 
 you going to the ball with me? " 
 
 " Look out, Kitty," called another, " you'll jar your 
 back hair." 
 
 " Go on, Rubber," was her only comment. 
 
 As Carrie listened to this and much more of similar 
 familiar badinage among the men and girls, she instinc- 
 tively withdrew into herself. She was not used to this 
 type, and felt that there was something hard and low 
 about it all. She feared that the young boys about would 
 address such remarks to her boys who, beside Drouet, 
 seemed uncouth and ridiculous. She made the average 
 feminine distinction between clothes, putting worth, 
 goodness, and distinction in a dress suit, and leaving all 
 the unlovely qualities and those beneath notice in overalls 
 and jumper.
 
 SISTER CARRIE 45 
 
 She was glad when the short half hour was over and 
 the wheels began to whirr again. Though wearied, she 
 would be inconspicuous. This illusion ended when an- 
 other young man passed along the aisle and poked her 
 indifferently in the ribs with his thumb. She turned 
 about, indignation leaping to her eyes, but he had gone 
 on and only once turned to grin. She found it difficult to 
 conquer an inclination to cry. 
 
 The girl next her noticed her state of mind. " Don't 
 you mind," she said. " He's too fresh." 
 
 Carrie said nothing, but bent over her work. She felt 
 as though she could hardly endure such a life. Her idea 
 of work had been so entirely different. All during the 
 long afternoon she thought of the city outside and its im- 
 posing show, crowds, and fine buildings. Columbia City 
 and the better side of her home life came back. By three 
 o'clock she was sure it must be six, and by four it seemed 
 as if they had forgotten to note the hour and were letting 
 all work overtime. The foreman became a true ogre, 
 prowling constantly about, keeping her tied down to her 
 miserable task. What she heard of the conversation 
 about her only made her feel sure that she did not want 
 to make friends with any of these. When six o'clock 
 came she hurried eagerly away, her arms aching and her 
 limbs stiff from sitting in one position. 
 
 As she passed out along the hall after getting her hat, 
 a young machine hand, attracted by her looks, made bold 
 to jest with her. 
 
 " Say, Maggie," he called, " if you wait, I'll walk with 
 you." 
 
 It was thrown so straight in her direction that she knew 
 who was meant, but never turned to look. 
 
 In the crowded elevator, another dusty, toil-stained 
 youth tried to make an impression on her by leering in 
 her face.
 
 46 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 One young man, waiting on the walk outside for the 
 appearance of another, grinned at her as she passed. 
 
 "Ain't going my way, are you?" he called jocosely. 
 
 Carrie turned her face to the west with a subdued heart. 
 As she turned the corner, she saw through the great shiny 
 window the small desk at which she had applied. There 
 were the crowds, hurrying with the same buzz and energy- 
 yielding enthusiasm. She felt a slight relief, but it was 
 only at her escape. She felt ashamed in the face of better 
 dressed girls who went by. She felt as though she should 
 be better served, and her heart revolted.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 A GLITTERING NIGHT FLOWER: THE USE OF A NAME 
 
 Drouet did not call that evening. After receiving the 
 letter, he had laid aside all thought of Carrie for the time 
 being and was floating around having what he considered 
 a gay time. On this particular evening he dined at " Rec- 
 tor's," a restaurant of some local fame, which occupied a 
 basement at Clark and Monroe Streets. Thereafter he 
 visited the resort of Fitzgerald and Moy's in Adams 
 Street, opposite the imposing Federal Building. There 
 he leaned over the splendid bar and swallowed a glass of 
 plain whiskey and purchased a couple of cigars, one of 
 which he lighted. This to him represented in part high 
 life a fair sample of what the whole must be. 
 
 Drouet was not a drinker in excess. He was not a 
 moneyed man. He only craved the best, as his mind con- 
 ceived it, and such doings seemed to him a part of the best. 
 Rector's, with its polished marble walls and floor, its pro- 
 fusion of lights, its show of china and silverware, and, 
 above all, its reputation as a resort for actors and profes- 
 sional men, seemed to him the proper place for a success- 
 ful man to go. He loved fine clothes, good eating, and 
 particularly the company and acquaintanceship of suc- 
 cessful men. When dining, it was a source of keen satis- 
 faction to him to know that Joseph Jefferson was wont to 
 come to this same place, or that Henry E. Dixie, a well- 
 known performer of the day, was then only a few tables 
 off. At Rector's he could always obtain this satisfaction.
 
 48 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 for there one could encounter politicians, brokers, actors, 
 some rich young " rounders " of the town, all eating and 
 drinking amid a buzz of popular commonplace conver- 
 sation. 
 
 " That's So-and-so over there," was a common remark 
 of these gentlemen among themselves, particularly among 
 those who had not yet reached, but hoped to do so, the 
 dazzling height which money to dine here lavishly repre- 
 sented. 
 
 " You don't say so," would be the reply. 
 
 " Why, yes, didn't you know that? Why, he's manager 
 of the Grand Opera House." 
 
 When these things would fall upon Drouet's ears, he 
 would straighten himself a little more stiffly and eat with 
 solid comfort. If he had any vanity, this augmented it, 
 and if he had any ambition, this stirred it. He would 
 be able to flash a roll of greenbacks too some day. As it 
 was, he could eat where they did. 
 
 His preference for Fitzgerald and Moy's Adams Street 
 place was another yard off the same cloth. This was really 
 a gorgeous saloon from a Chicago standpoint. Like 
 Rector's, it was also ornamented with a blaze of incan- 
 descent lights, held in handsome chandeliers. The floors 
 were of brightly coloured tiles, the walls a composition of 
 rich, dark, polished wood, which reflected the light, and 
 coloured stucco-work, which gave the place a very sump- 
 tuous appearance. The long bar was a blaze of lights, 
 polished wood-work, coloured and cut glassware, and 
 many fancy bottles. It was a truly swell saloon, with rich 
 screens, fancy wines, and a line of bar goods unsurpassed 
 in the country. 
 
 At Rector's, Drouet had met Mr. G. W. Hurst- 
 wood, manager of Fitzgerald and Moy's. He had been 
 pointed out as a very successful and well-known man 
 about town. Hurstwood looked the part, for. besides
 
 SISTER CARRIE 49 
 
 being slightly under forty, he had a good, stout consti- 
 tution, an active manner, and a solid, substantial air, 
 which was composed in part of his fine clothes, his clean 
 linen, his jewels, and, above all, his own sense of his im- 
 portance. Drouet immediately conceived a notion of him 
 as being some one worth knowing, and was glad not only 
 to meet him, but to visit the Adams Street bar thereafter 
 whenever he wanted a drink or a cigar. 
 
 Hurstwood was an interesting character after his kind. 
 He was shrewd and clever in many little things, and capa- 
 ble of creating a good impression. His managerial posi- 
 tion was fairly important a kind of stewardship which 
 was imposing, but lacked financial control. He had risen 
 by perseverance and industry, through long years of ser- 
 vice, from the position of barkeeper in a commonplace 
 saloon to his present altitude. He had a little office in the 
 place, set off in polished cherry and grill-work, where he 
 kept, in a roll-top desk, the rather simple accounts of the 
 place supplies ordered and needed. The chief execu- 
 tive and financial functions devolved upon the owners 
 Messrs. Fitzgerald and Moy and upon a cashier who 
 looked after the money taken in. 
 
 For the most part he lounged about, dressed in excel- 
 lent tailored suits of imported goods, a solitaire ring, a fine 
 blue diamond in his tie, a striking vest of some new pat- 
 tern, and a watch-chain of solid gold, which held a charm 
 of rich design, and a watch of the latest make and engrav- 
 ing. He knew by name, and could greet personally with 
 a " Well, old fellow," hundreds of actors, merchants, poli- 
 ticians, and the general run of successful characters about 
 town, and it was part of his success to do so. He had a 
 finely graduated scale of informality and friendship, which 
 improved from the " How do you do? " addressed to the 
 fifteen-dollar-a-week clerks and office attaches, who, by 
 long frequenting of the place, became aware of his posi-
 
 50 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 tion, to the "Why, old man, how are you?" which he 
 addressed to those noted or rich individuals who knew 
 him and were inclined to be friendly. There was a class, 
 however, too rich, too famous, or too successful, with 
 whom he could not attempt any familiarity of address, and 
 with these he was professionally tactful, assuming a grave 
 and dignified attitude, paying them the deference which 
 would win their good feeling without in the least com- 
 promising his own bearing and opinions. There were, in 
 the last place, a few good followers, neither rich nor poor, 
 famous, nor yet remarkably successful, with whom he was 
 friendly on the score of good-fellowship. These were the 
 kind of men with whom he would converse longest and 
 most seriously. He loved to go out and have a good time 
 once in a while to go to the races, the theatres, the sport- 
 ing entertainments at some of the clubs. He kept a horse 
 and neat trap, had his wife and two children, who were 
 well established in a neat house on the North Side near 
 Lincoln Park, and was altogether a very acceptable indi- 
 vidual of our great American upper class the first grade 
 below the luxuriously rich. 
 
 Hurstwood liked Drouet. The latter's genial nature 
 and dressy appearance pleased him. He knew that 
 Drouet was only a travelling salesman and not one of 
 many years at that but the firm of Bartlett, Caryoe & 
 Company was a large and prosperous house, and Drouet 
 stood well. Hurstwood knew Caryoe quite well, having 
 drunk a glass now and then with him, in company with 
 several others, when the conversation was general. 
 Drouet had what was a help in his business, a moderate 
 sense of humour, and could tell a good story when the oc- 
 casion required. He could talk races with Hurstwood, 
 tell interesting incidents concerning himself and his ex- 
 periences with women, and report the state of trade in the 
 cities which he visited, and so managed to make himself
 
 SISTER CARRIE 51 
 
 almost invariably agreeable. To-night he was particularly 
 so, since his report to the company had been favour- 
 ably commented upon, his new samples had been satis- 
 factorily selected, and his trip marked out for the next 
 six weeks. 
 
 " Why, hello, Charlie, old man," said Hurstwood, as 
 Drouet came in that evening about eight o'clock. " How 
 goes it? " The room was crowded. 
 
 Drouet shook hands, beaming good nature, and they 
 strolled towards the bar. 
 
 " Oh, all right." 
 
 " I haven't seen you in six weeks. When did you get 
 in?" 
 
 " Friday," said Drouet. " Had a fine trip." 
 
 " Glad of it," said Hurstwood, his black eyes lit with a 
 warmth which half displaced the cold make-believe that 
 usually dwelt in them. " What are you going to take? " 
 he added, as the barkeeper, in snowy jacket and tie, leaned 
 toward them from behind the bar. 
 
 " Old Pepper," said Drouet. 
 
 " A little of the same for me," put in Hurstwood. 
 
 " How long are you in town this time? " inquired 
 Hurstwood. 
 
 " Only until Wednesday. I'm going up to St. Paul." 
 
 " George Evans was in here Saturday and said he saw 
 you in Milwaukee last week." 
 
 " Yes, I saw George," returned Drouet. " Great old 
 boy, isn't he ? We had quite a time there together." 
 
 The barkeeper was setting out the glasses and bottle 
 before them, and they now poured out the draught as they 
 talked, Drouet filling his to within a third of full, as was 
 considered proper, and Hurstwood taking the barest sug- 
 gestion of whiskey and modifying it with seltzer. 
 
 "What's become of Caryoe?" remarked Hurstwood, 
 " I haven't seen him around here in two weeks."
 
 $2 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 " Laid up, they say," exclaimed Drouet. " Say, he's a 
 gouty old boy! " 
 
 " Made a lot of money in his time, though, hasn't he ?" 
 
 " Yes, wads of it," returned Drouet. " He won't live 
 much longer. Barely comes down to the office now." 
 
 "Just one boy, hasn't he?" asked Hurstwood. 
 
 " Yes, and a swift-pacer," laughed Drouet. 
 
 " I guess he can't hurt the business very much, though, 
 with the other members all there." 
 
 " No, he can't injure that any, I guess." 
 
 Hurstwood was standing, his coat open, his thumbs in 
 his pockets, the light on his jewels and rings relieving 
 them with agreeable distinctness. He was the picture of 
 fastidious comfort. 
 
 To one not inclined to drink, and gifted with a more 
 serious turn of mind, such a bubbling, chattering, glitter- 
 ing chamber must ever seem an anomaly, a strange com- 
 mentary on nature and life. Here come the moths, in 
 endless procession, to bask in the light of the flame. Such 
 conversation as one may hear would not warrant a com- 
 mendation of the scene upon intellectual grounds. It 
 seems plain that schemers would choose more sequestered 
 quarters to arrange their plans, that politicians would not 
 gather here in company to discuss anything save formali- 
 ties, where the sharp-eared may hear, and it would 
 scarcely be justified on the score of thirst, for the majority 
 of those who frequent these more gorgeous places have 
 no craving for liquor. 'Nevertheless, the fact that here 
 men gather, here chatter, here love to pass and rub elbows, 
 must be explained upon some grounds. It must be that 
 a strange bundle of passions and vague desires give rise 
 to such a curious social institution or it would not be. 
 
 Drouet, for one, was lured as much by his longing for 
 pleasure as by his desire to shine among his betters. The 
 many friends he met here dropped in because they craved,
 
 SISTER CARRIE 53 
 
 without, perhaps, consciously analysing it, the company, 
 the glow, the atmosphere which they found. One might 
 take it, after all, as an augur of the better social order, fof 
 the things which they satisfied here, though sensory, were 
 not evil. No evil could come out of the contemplation of 
 an expensively decorated chamber. The worst effect of 
 such a thing would be, perhaps, to stir up in the material 
 minded an ambition to arrange their lives upon a similarly 
 splendid basis. In the last analysis, that would scarcely 
 be called the fault of the decorations, but rather of the in- 
 nate trend of the mind. That such a scene might stir the 
 less expensively dressed to emulate the more expensively 
 dressed could scarcely be laid at the door of anything save 
 the false ambition of the minds of those so affected. Re- 
 move the element so thoroughly and solely complained 
 of liquor and there would not be one to gainsay the 
 qualities of beauty and enthusiasm which would remain. 
 The pleased eye with which our modern restaurants of 
 fashion are looked upon is proof of this assertion. 
 
 Yet, here is the fact of the lighted chamber, the dressy, 
 greedy company, the small, self-interested palaver, tin 
 disorganized, aimless, wandering mental action which il 
 represents the love of light and show and finery which, 
 to one outside, under the serene light of the eternal stars, 
 must seem a strange and shiny thing. Under the stars 
 and sweeping night winds, what a lamp-flower it must 
 bloom; a strange, glittering night-flower, odour-yielding, 
 insect-drawing, insect-infested rose of pleasure. 
 
 " See that fellow coming in there ? " said Hurstwood, 
 glancing at a gentleman just entering, arrayed in a high 
 hat and Prince Albert coat, his fat cheeks puffed and red 
 as with good eating. 
 
 " No, where?" said Drouet. 
 
 " There," said Hurstwood, indicating the direction by 
 a cast of his eye, " the man with the silk hat."
 
 54 
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 " Oh, yes," said Drouet, now affecting not to see, 
 "Who is he?" 
 
 " That's Jules Wallace, the spiritualist." 
 
 Drouet followed him with his eyes, much interested. 
 
 " Doesn't look much like a man who sees spirits, does 
 he? " said Drouet. 
 
 " Oh, I don't know," returned Hurstwood. " He's got 
 the money, all right," and a little twinkle passed over his 
 eyes. 
 
 "I don't go much on those things, do you?" asked 
 Drouet. 
 
 " Well, you never can tell," said Hurstwood. " There 
 may be something to it. I wouldn't bother about it my- 
 self, though. By the way," he added, " are you going 
 anywhere to-night?" 
 
 " ' The Hole in the Ground/ " said Drouet, mentioning 
 the popular farce of the time. 
 
 " Well, you'd better be going. It's half after eight al- 
 ready," and he drew out his watch. 
 
 The crowd was already thinning out considerably 
 some bound for the theatres, some to their clubs, and 
 Borne to that most fascinating of all the pleasures for the 
 type of man there represented, at least the ladies. 
 
 " Yes, I will," said Drouet. 
 
 " Come around after the show. I have something I 
 ivant to show you," said Hurstwood. 
 
 " Sure," said Drouet, elated. 
 
 " You haven't anything on hand for the night, have 
 you? " added Hurstwood. 
 
 " Not a thing." 
 
 " Well, come round, then." 
 
 " I struck a little peach coming in on the train Friday," 
 remarked Drouet, by way of parting. " By George, that's 
 BO, I must go and call on her before I go away." 
 
 " Oh, never mind her," Hurstwood remarked.
 
 SISTER CARRIE $$ 
 
 " Say, she was a little dandy, I tell you," went on Drouet 
 confidentially, and trying to impress his friend, 
 
 " Twelve o'clock," said Hurstwood. 
 
 " That's right," said Drouet, going out. 
 
 Thus was Carrie's name bandied about in the most 
 frivolous and gay of places, and that also when the little 
 toiler was bemoaning her narrow lot, which was almost 
 inseparable from the early stages of this, her unfolding 
 fete.
 
 CHAPTER V! 
 
 THE MACHINE AND THE MAIDEN : A KNIGHT OF TO-DAY 
 
 At the flat that evening Carrie felt a new phase of its 
 atmosphere. The fact that it was unchanged, while her 
 feelings were different, increased her knowledge of its 
 character. Minnie, after the good spirits Carrie mani- 
 fested at first, expected a fair report. Hanson supposed 
 that Carrie would be satisfied. 
 
 " Well," he said, as he came in from the hall in his work- 
 ing clothes, and looked at Carrie through the dining-room 
 door, " how did you make out? " 
 
 " Oh," said Carrie, " it's pretty hard. I don't like it." 
 
 There was an air about her which showed plainer than 
 any words that she was both weary and disappointed. 
 
 " What sort of work is it? " he asked, lingering a mo- 
 ment as he turned upon his heel to go into the bathroom. 
 
 " Running a machine," answered Carrie. 
 
 It was very evident that it did not concern him much, 
 save from the side of the flat's success. He was irritated 
 a shade because it could not have come about in the throw 
 of fortune for Carrie to be pleased. 
 
 Minnie worked with less elation than she had just be- 
 fore Carrie arrived. The sizzle of the meat frying did not 
 sound quite so pleasing now that Carrie had reported her 
 discontent. To Carrie, the one relief of the whole day 
 would have been a jolly home, a sympathetic reception, 
 a bright supper table, and some one to say: " Oh, well, 
 stand it a little while. You will get something better,"
 
 SISTER CARRIE 57 
 
 but now this was ashes. She began to see that they looked 
 upon her complaint as unwarranted, and that she was sup- 
 posed to work on and say nothing. She knew that she 
 was to pay four dollars for her board and room, and now 
 she felt that it would be an exceedingly gloomy round, 
 living with these people. 
 
 Minnie was no companion for her sister she was too 
 old. Her thoughts were staid and solemnly adapted to a 
 condition. If Hanson had any pleasant thoughts or happy 
 feelings he concealed them. He seemed to do all his 
 mental operations without the aid of physical expression. 
 He was as still as a deserted chamber. Carrie, on the 
 other hand, had the blood of youth and some imagination. 
 Her day of love and the mysteries of courtship were still 
 ahead. She could think of things she would like to do, 
 of clothes she would like to wear, and of places she would 
 like to visit. These were the things upon which her mind 
 ran, and it was like meeting with opposition at every 
 turn to find no one here to call forth or respond to her 
 feelings. 
 
 She had forgotten, in considering and explaining the 
 result of her day, that Drouet might come. Now, when 
 she saw how unreceptive these two people were, she hoped 
 he would not. She did not know exactly what she would 
 do or how she would explain to Drouet, if he came. After 
 supper she changed her clothes. When she was trimly 
 dressed she was rather a sweet little being, with large eyes 
 and a sad mouth. Her face expressed the mingled ex- 
 pectancy, dissatisfaction, and depression she felt. She 
 wandered about after the dishes were put away, talked a 
 little with Minnie, and then decided to go down and stand 
 in the door at the foot of the stairs. If Drouet came, she 
 could meet him there. Her face took on the semblance 
 of a look of happiness as she put on her hat to go below. 
 
 " Carrie doesn't seem to like her place very well," said
 
 58 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 Minnie to her husband when the latter came out, paper 
 in hand, to sit in the dining-room a few minutes. 
 
 " She ought to keep it for a time, anyhow," said Han- 
 son. " Has she gone downstairs? " 
 
 " Yes," said Minnie. 
 
 " I'd tell her to keep it if I were you. She might be 
 here weeks without getting another one." 
 
 Minnie said she would, and Hanson read his paper. 
 
 " If I were you," he said a little later, " I wouldn't let 
 her stand in the door down there. It don't look good." 
 
 " I'll tell her," said Minnie. 
 
 The life of the streets continued for a long time to in- 
 terest Carrie. She never wearied of wondering where the 
 people in the cars were going or what their enjoyments 
 were. Her imagination trod a very narrow round, always 
 winding up at points which concerned money, looks, 
 clothes, or enjoyment. She would have a far-off thought 
 of Columbia City now and then, or an irritating rush of 
 feeling concerning her experiences of the present day, but, 
 on the whole, the little world about her enlisted her whole 
 attention. 
 
 The first floor of the building, of which Hanson's flat 
 was the third, was occupied by a bakery, and to this, while 
 she was standing there, Hanson came down to buy a loaf, 
 of bread. She was not aware of his presence until he was 
 quite near her. 
 
 " I'm after bread," was all he said as he passed. 
 
 The contagion of thought here demonstrated itself. 
 While Hanson really came for bread, the thought dwelt 
 with him that now he would see what Carrie was doing. 
 No sooner did he draw near her with that in mind than she 
 felt it. Of course, she had no understanding of what put 
 it into her head, but, nevertheless, it aroused in her the 
 first shade of real antipathy to him. She knew ncrw that 
 she did not like him. He was suspicious.
 
 I 
 SISTER CARRIE 59 
 
 A thought will colour a world for us. The flow of 
 Carrie's meditations had been disturbed, and Hanson had 
 not long gone upstairs before she followed. She had real- 
 ised with the lapse of the quarter hours that Drouet was 
 not coming, and somehow she felt a little resentful, a little 
 as if she had been forsaken was not good enough. She 
 went upstairs, where everything was silent. Minnie was 
 sewing by a lamp at the table. Hanson had already 
 turned in for the night. In her weariness and disappoint- 
 ment Carrie did no more than announce that she was 
 going to bed. 
 
 " Yes, you'd better," returned Minnie. " You've got 
 to get up early, you know." 
 
 The morning was no better. Hanson was just going 
 out the door as Carrie came from her room. Minnie tried 
 to talk with her during breakfast, but there was not much 
 of interest which they could mutually discuss. As on the 
 previous morning, Carrie walked down town, for she be- 
 gan to realise now that her four-fifty would not even allow 
 her car fare after she paid her board. This seemed a 
 miserable arrangement. But the morning light swept 
 away the first misgivings of the day, as morning light is 
 ever wont to do. 
 
 At the shoe factory she put in a long day, scarcely 
 so wearisome as the preceding, but considerably less 
 novel. The head foreman, on his round, stopped by her 
 machine. 
 
 " Where did you come from ? " he inquired. 
 
 " Mr. Brown hired me," she replied. 
 
 " Oh, he did, eh ! " and then, " See that you keep things 
 going." 
 
 The machine girls impressed her even less favourably. 
 They seemed satisfied with their lot, and were in a sense 
 "common." Carrie had more imagination than they, 
 She was not used to slang. Her instinct in the matter
 
 60 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 of dress was naturally better. She disliked to listen to the 
 girl next to her, who was rather hardened by experience. 
 
 " I'm going to quit this," she heard her remark to her 
 neighbour. " What with the stipend and being up late, 
 it's too much for me health." 
 
 They were free with the fellows, young and old, about 
 the place, and exchanged banter in rude phrases, which at 
 first shocked her. She saw that she was taken to be of 
 the same sort and addressed accordingly. 
 
 " Hello," remarked one of the stout-wristed sole-work- 
 ers to her at noon. " You're a daisy." He really ex- 
 pected to hear the common " Aw! go chase yourself! " in 
 return, and was sufficiently abashed, by Carrie's silently 
 moving away, to retreat, awkwardly grinning. 
 
 That night at the flat she was even more lonely the 
 dull situation was becoming harder to endure. She could 
 see that the Hansons seldom or never had any company. 
 Standing at the street door looking out, she ventured to 
 walk out a little way. Her easy gait and idle manner 
 attracted attention of an offensive but common sort. She 
 was slightly taken back at the overtures of a well-dressed 
 man of thirty, who in passing looked at her, reduced his 
 pace, turned back, and said : 
 
 " Out for a little stroll, are you, this evening? " 
 
 Carrie looked at him in amazement, and then sum- 
 moned sufficient thought to reply: " Why, I don't know 
 you," backing away as she did so. 
 
 " Oh, that don't matter," said the other affably. 
 . She bandied no more words with him, but hurried 
 away, reaching her own door quite out of breath. There 
 was something in the man's look which frightened 
 her. 
 
 During the remainder of the week it was very much the 
 same. One or two nights she found herself too tired to 
 walk home, and expended car fare. She was not very
 
 SISTER CARRIE 6l 
 
 strong, and sitting all day affected her back. She went to 
 bed one night before Hanson. 
 
 Transplantation is not always successful in the matter 
 of flowers or maidens. It requires sometimes a richer 
 soil, a better atmosphere to continue even a natural 
 growth. It would have been better if her acclimatization 
 had been more gradual less rigid. She would have done 
 better if she had not secured a position so quickly, and had 
 seen more of the city which she constantly troubled to 
 know about. 
 
 On the first morning it rained she found that she had 
 no umbrella. Minnie loaned her one of hers, which was 
 worn and faded. There was the kind of vanity in Carrie 
 that troubled at this. She went to one of the great de- 
 partment stores and bought herself one, using a dollar 
 and a quarter of her small store to pay for it. 
 
 " What did you do that for, Carrie? " asked Minnie, 
 when she saw it. 
 
 " Oh, I need one," said Carrie. 
 
 " You foolish girl." 
 
 Carrie resented this, though she did not reply. She 
 was not going to be a common shop-girl, she thought; 
 they need not think it, either. 
 
 On the first Saturday night Carrie paid her board, fout 
 dollars. Minnie had a quaver of conscience as she took 
 it, but did not know how to explain to Hanson if she took 
 less. That worthy gave up just four dollars less toward 
 the household expenses with a smile of satisfaction. He 
 contemplated increasing his Building and Loan pay- 
 ments. As for Carrie, she studied over the problem of 
 finding clothes and amusement on fifty cents a week. 
 She brooded over this until she was in a state of mental, 
 rebellion. 
 
 " I'm going up the street for a walk," she said after 
 supper.
 
 62 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 " Not alone, are you? " asked Hanson. 
 
 " Yes," returned Carrie. 
 
 " I wouldn't," said Minnie. 
 
 " I want to see something," said Carrie, and by the tone 
 she put into the last word they realised for the first time 
 she was not pleased with them. 
 
 " What's the matter with her? " asked Hanson, when 
 she went into the front room to get her hat. 
 
 " I don't know," said Minnie. 
 
 " Well, she ought to know better than to want to go out 
 alone." 
 
 Carrie did not go very far, after all. She returned and 
 stood in the door. The next day they went out to Gar- 
 field Park, but it did not please her. She did not look 
 well enough. In the shop next day she heard the highly 
 coloured reports which girls give of their trivial amuse- 
 ments. They had been happy. On several days it rained 
 and she used up car fare. One night she got thoroughly 
 soaked, going to catch the car at Van Buren Street. All 
 that evening she sat alone in the front room looking out 
 upon the street, where the lights were reflected on the wet 
 pavements, thinking. She had imagination enough to be 
 moody. 
 
 On Saturday she paid another four dollars and pocketed 
 her fifty cents in despair. The speaking acquaintanceship 
 which she formed with some of the girls at the shop dis- 
 covered to her the fact that they had more of their earn- 
 ings to use for themselves than she did. They had young 
 men of the kind whom she, since her experience with 
 Drouet, felt above, who took them about. She came to 
 thoroughly dislike the light-headed young fellows of the 
 shop. Not one of them had a show of refinement. She 
 saw only their workday side. 
 
 There came a day when the first premonitory blast of 
 winter swept over the city. It scudded the fleecy clouds
 
 SISTER CARRIE 6j 
 
 in the heavens, trailed long, thin streamers of smoke from 
 the tall stacks, and raced about the streets and corners in 
 sharp and sudden puffs. Carrie now felt the problem of 
 winter clothes. What was she to do? She had no winter 
 jacket, no hat, no shoes. It was difficult to speak to 
 Minnie about this, but at last she summoned the courage, 
 
 " I don't know what I'm going to do about clothes," 
 she said one evening when they were together. " I need 
 a hat." 
 
 Minnie looked serious. 
 
 " Why don't you keep part of your money and buy 
 yourself one?" she suggested, worried over the situation 
 which the withholding of Carrie's money would create. 
 
 " I'd like to for a week or so, if you don't mind," ven- 
 tured Carrie. 
 
 " Could you pay two dollars? " asked Minnie. 
 
 Carrie readily acquiesced, glad to escape the trying situ- 
 ation, and liberal now that she saw a way out. She was 
 elated and began figuring at once. She needed a hat first 
 of all. How Minnie explained to Hanson she never knew. 
 He said nothing at all, but there were thoughts in the air 
 which left disagreeable impressions. 
 
 The new arrangement might have worked if sickness 
 had not intervened. It blew up cold after a rain one after- 
 noon when Carrie was still without a jacket. She came 
 out of the warm shop at six and shivered as the wind 
 struck her. In the morning she was sneezing, and going 
 down town made it worse. That day her bones ached and 
 she felt light-headed. Towards evening she felt very ill, 
 and when she reached home was not hungry. Minnie 
 noticed her drooping actions and asked her about herself. 
 
 " I don't know," said Carrie. " I feel real bad." 
 
 She hung about the stove, suffered a chattering chill, 
 and went to bed sick. The next morning she was thor- 
 oughly feverish.
 
 '64 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 Minnie was truly distressed at this, but maintained a 
 kindly demeanour. Hanson said perhaps she had better 
 go back home for a while. When she got up after three 
 days, it was taken for granted that her position was lost. 
 The winter was near at hand, she had no clothes, and now 
 she was out of work. 
 
 " I don't know," said Carrie; " I'll go down Monday 
 and see if I can't get something." 
 
 If anything, her efforts were more poorly rewarded on 
 this trial than the last. Her clothes were nothing suitable 
 for fall wearing. Her last money she had spent for a hat. 
 For three days she wandered about, utterly dispirited. 
 The attitude of the flat was fast becoming unbearable. 
 She hated to think of going back there each evening. 
 Hanson was so cold. She knew it could not last much 
 longer. Shortly she would have to give up and go home. 
 
 On the fourth day she was down town all day, having 
 borrowed ten cents for lunch from Minnie. She had ap- 
 plied in the cheapest kind of places without success. She 
 even answered for a waitress in a small restaurant where 
 she saw a card in the window, but they wanted an experi- 
 enced girl. She moved through the thick throng of 
 strangers, utterly subdued in spirit. Suddenly a hand 
 pulled her arm and turned her about. 
 
 " Well, well ! " said a voice. In the first glance she be- 
 held Drouet. He was not only rosy-cheeked, but radiant. 
 He was the essence of sunshine and good-humour. 
 " Why, how are you, Carrie? " he said. " You're a daisy. 
 Where have you been? " 
 
 Carrie smiled under his irresistible flood of geniality. 
 
 " I've been out home," she said. 
 
 " Well," he said, " I saw you across the street there. I 
 thought it was you. I was just coming out to your place. 
 How are you, anyhow? " 
 
 " I'm all right," said Carrie, smiling.
 
 SISTER CARRIE 65 
 
 Drouet looked her over and saw something different. 
 
 " Well," he said, " I want to talk to you. You're not 
 going anywhere in particular, are you? " 
 
 " Not just now," said Carrie. 
 
 " Let's go up here and have something to eat. George! 
 but I'm glad to see you again." 
 
 She felt so relieved in his radiant presence, so much 
 looked after and cared for, that she assented gladly, 
 though with the slightest air of holding back. 
 
 " Well," he said, as he took her arm and there was an 
 exuberance of good-fellowship in the word which fairly 
 warmed the cockles of her heart. 
 
 They went through Monroe Street to the old Windsor 
 dining-room, which was then a large, comfortable place, 
 with an excellent cuisine and substantial service. Drouet 
 selected a table close by the window, where the busy rout 
 of the street could be seen. He loved the changing pano- 
 rama of the street to see and be seen as he dined. 
 
 " Now," he said, getting Carrie and himself comfortably 
 settled, " what will you have? " 
 
 Carrie looked over the large bill of fare which the 
 waiter handed her without really considering it. She was 
 very hungry, and the things she saw there awakened her 
 desires, but the high prices held her attention. " Half 
 broiled spring chicken seventy-five. Sirloin steak with 
 mushrooms one twenty-five." She had dimly heard of 
 these things, but it seemed strange to be called to order 
 from the list. 
 
 " I'll fix this," exclaimed Drouet. " Sst! waiter." 
 
 That officer of the board, a full-chested, round-faced 
 negro, approached, and inclined his ear. 
 
 " Sirloin with mushrooms," said Drouet. " Stuffed 
 tomatoes." 
 
 " Yassah," assented the negro, nodding his head. 
 
 " Hashed brown potatoes."
 
 66 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 " Yassah." 
 
 " Asparagus." 
 
 " Yassah." 
 
 " And a pot of coffee." 
 
 Drouet turned to Carrie. " I haven't had a thing since 
 breakfast. Just got in from Rock Island. I was going 
 off to dine when I saw you." 
 
 Carrie smiled and smiled. 
 
 " What have you been doing? " he went on. " Tell me 
 all about yourself. How is your sister? " 
 
 " She's well," returned Carrie, answering the last query. 
 
 He looked at her hard. 
 
 " Say," he said, " you haven't been sick, have you? " 
 
 Carrie nodded. 
 
 " Well, now, that's a blooming shame, isn't it ? You 
 don't look very well. I thought you looked a little pale. 
 What have you been doing? " 
 
 " Working," said Carrie. 
 
 " You don't say so! At what?" 
 
 She told him. 
 
 " Rhodes, Morgenthau and Scott why, I know that 
 house. Over here on Fifth Avenue, isn't it? They're a 
 close-fisted concern. What made you go there? " 
 
 " I couldn't get anything else," said Carrie frankly. 
 
 " Well, that's an outrage," said Drouet. " You oughtn't 
 to be working for those people. Have the factory right 
 back of the store, don't they? " 
 
 " Yes," said Carrie. 
 
 " That isn't a good house," said Drouet. " You don't 
 want to work at anything like that, anyhow." 
 
 He chattered on at a great rate, asking questions, ex- 
 plaining things about himself, telling her what a good 
 restaurant it was, until the waiter returned with an im- 
 mense tray, bearing the hot savoury dishes which had 
 been ordered. Drouet fairly shone in the matter of serv
 
 SISTER CARRIE 67 
 
 ing. He appeared to great advantage behind the white 
 napery and silver platters of the table and displaying his 
 arms with a knife and fork. As he cut the meat his rings 
 almost spoke. His new suit creaked as he stretched to 
 reach the plates, break the bread, and pour the coffee. He 
 helped Carrie to a rousing plateful and contributed the 
 warmth of his spirit to her body until she was a new girl. 
 He was a splendid fellow in the true popular understand- 
 ing of the term, and captivated Carrie completely. 
 
 That little soldier of fortune took her good turn in an 
 easy way. She felt a little out of place, but the great room 
 soothed her and the view of the well-dressed throng out- 
 side seemed a splendid thing. Ah, what was it not to 
 have money! What a thing it was to be able to come in 
 here and dine! Drouet must be fortunate. He rode on 
 trains, dressed in such nice clothes, was so strong, and 
 ate in these fine places. He seemed quite a figure of 
 a man, and she wondered at his friendship and regard 
 for her. 
 
 " So you lost your place because you got sick, eh? " he 
 said. " What are you going to do now? " 
 
 " Look around," she said, a thought of the need that 
 hung outside this fine restaurant like a hungry dog at her 
 heels passing into her eyes. 
 
 " Oh, no," said Drouet, " that won't do. How long 
 have you been looking? " 
 
 " Four days," she answered. 
 
 " Think of that! " he said, addressing some problemati- 
 cal individual. " You oughtn't to be doing anything like 
 that. These girls," and he waved an inclusion of all shop 
 and factory girls, " don't get anything. Why, you can't 
 live on it, can you?" 
 
 He was a brotherly sort of creature in his demeanour. 
 When he had scouted the idea of that kind of toil, he took 
 another tick. Carrie was really very pretty. Even thea
 
 68 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 in her commonplace garb, her figure was evidently not 
 bad, and her eyes were large and gentle. Drouet looked 
 at her and his thoughts reached home. She felt his ad- 
 miration. It was powerfully backed by his liberality and 
 good-humour. She felt that she liked him that she 
 could continue to like him ever so much. There was 
 something even richer than that, running as a hidden 
 strain, in her mind. Every little while her eyes would 
 meet his, and by that means the interchanging current 
 of feeling would be fully connected. 
 
 " Why don't you stay down town and go to the theatre 
 with me?" he said, hitching his chair closer. The table 
 was not very wide. 
 
 " Oh, I can't," she said. 
 
 " What are you going to do to-night? " 
 
 " Nothing," she answered, a little drearily. 
 
 " You don't like out there where you are, do you? " 
 
 " Oh, I don't know." 
 
 " What are you going to do if you don't get work? " 
 
 " Go back home, I guess." 
 
 There was the least quaver in her voice as she said this. 
 Somehow, the influence he was exerting was powerful. 
 They came to an understanding of each other without 
 words he of her situation, she of the fact that he realised 
 it. 
 
 " No," he said, " you can't make it! " genuine sympathy 
 filling his mind for the time. " Let me help you. You 
 take some of my money." 
 
 " Oh, no! " she said, leaning back. 
 
 " What are you going to do? " he said. 
 
 She sat meditating, merely shaking her head. 
 
 He looked at her quite tenderly for his kind. There 
 were some loose bills in his vest pocket greenbacks 
 They were soft and noiseless, and he got his fingers about 
 them and crumpled them up in his hand.
 
 SISTER CARRIE 69 
 
 " Come on," he said, " I'll see you through all right. 
 Get yourself some clothes." 
 
 It was the first reference he had made to that subject, 
 and now she realised how bad off she was. In his crude 
 way he had struck the key-note. Her lips trembled a little. 
 
 She had her hand out on the table before her. They 
 were quite alone in their corner, and he put his larger, 
 warmer hand over it. 
 
 " Aw, come, Carrie," he said, " what can you do alone ? 
 Let me help you." 
 
 He pressed her hand gently and she tried to withdraw 
 it. At this he held it fast, and she no longer protested. 
 Then he slipped the greenbacks he had into her palm, and 
 when she began to protest, he whispered: 
 
 " I'll loan it to you that's all right. I'll loan it to you." 
 
 He mjade her take it. She felt bound to him by a 
 strange tie of affection now. They went out, and he 
 walked with her far out south toward Polk Street, talking. 
 
 " You don't want to live with those people? " he said in 
 one place, abstractedly. Carrie heard it, but it made only 
 a slight impression. 
 
 " Come down and meet me to-morrow," he said, " and 
 we'll go to the matinee. Will you ? " 
 
 Carrie protested a while, but acquiesced. 
 
 " You're not doing anything. Get yourself a nice pair 
 of shoes and a jacket." 
 
 She scarcely gave a thought to the complication which 
 would trouble her when he was gone. In his presence, 
 she was of his own hopeful, easy-way-out mood. 
 
 " Don't you bother about those people out there," he 
 said at parting. " I'll help you." 
 
 Carrie left him, feeling as though a great arm had 
 slipped out before her to draw off trouble. The money 
 she had accepted was two soft, green, handsome ten- 
 dollar bills.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 THE LURE OF THE MATERIAL: BEAUTY SPEAKS FOR 
 ITSELF 
 
 The true meaning of money yet remains to be popularly 
 explained and comprehended. When each individual 
 realises for himself that this thing primarily stands for and 
 should only be accepted as a moral due that it should 
 be paid out as honestly stored energy, and not as a 
 usurped privilege many of our social, religious, and polit- 
 ical troubles will have permanently passed. As for Car- 
 rie, her understanding of the moral significance of money 
 was the popular understanding, nothing more. The old 
 definition : " Money : something everybody else has and I 
 must get," would have expressed her understanding of it 
 thoroughly. Some of it she now held in her hand two 
 soft, green ten-dollar bills and she felt that she was im- 
 mensely better off for the having of them. It was some- 
 thing that was power in itself. One of her order of mind 
 would have been content to be cast away upon a desert 
 island with a bundle of money, and only the long strain 
 of starvation would have taught her that in some cases 
 it could have no value. Even then she would have had 
 no conception of the relative value of the thing; her one 
 thought would, undoubtedly, have concerned the pity of 
 having so much power and the inability to use it. 
 
 The poor girl thrilled as she walked away from Drouet. 
 She felt ashamed in part because she had been weak 
 enough to take it, but her need was so dire, she was still
 
 SISTER CARRIE 7 1 
 
 glad. 'Now she would have a nice new jacket! Now she 
 would buy a nice pair of pretty button shoes. She would 
 get stockings, too, and a skirt, and, and until already, as 
 in the matter of her prospective salary, she had got be- 
 yond, in her desires, twice the purchasing power of her 
 bills. 
 
 She conceived a true estimate of Drouet. To her, and 
 indeed to all the world, he was a nice, good-hearted man. 
 There was nothing evil in the fellow. He gave her the 
 money out of a good heart out of a realisation of her 
 want. He would not have given the same amount to a 
 poor young man, but we must not forget that a poor 
 young man could not, in the nature of things, have ap^ 
 pealed to him like a poor young girl. Femininity affected 
 his feelings. He was the creature of an inborn desire. 
 Vet no beggar could have caught his eye and said, " My 
 God, mister, I'm starving," but he would gladly have 
 handed out what was considered the proper portion to 
 give beggars and thought no more about it. There 
 would have been no speculation, no philosophising. He 
 had no mental process in him worthy the dignity of either 
 of those terms. In his good clothes and fine health, he 
 was a merry, unthinking moth of the lamp. Deprived of 
 his position, and struck by a few of the involved and baf- 
 fling forces which sometimes play upon man, he would 
 have been as helpless as Carrie as helpless, as non- 
 understanding, as pitiable, if you will, as she. 
 
 .Now, in regard to his pursuit of women, he meant them 
 no harm, because he did not conceive of the relation 
 which he hoped to hold with them as being harmful. He 
 loved to make advances to women, to have them succumb 
 to his charms, not because he was a cold-blooded, dark, 
 scheming villain, but because his inborn desire urged him 
 to that as a chief delight. He was vain, he was boastful, 
 he was as deluded hv fine clothes as any silly-headed girl.
 
 72 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 A truly deep-dyed villain could have hornswaggled him 
 as readily as he could have flattered a pretty shop-girl. 
 His fine success as a salesman lay in his geniality and the 
 thoroughly reputable standing of his house. He bobbed 
 about among men, a veritable bundle of enthusiasm no 
 power worthy the name of intellect, no thoughts worthy 
 the adjective noble, no feelings long continued in one 
 strain. A Madame Sappho would have called him a pig; 
 a Shakespeare would have said " my merry child; " old, 
 drinking Caryoe thought him a clever, successful business 
 man. In short, he was as good as his intellect conceived. 
 
 The best proof that there was something open and 
 commendable about the man was the fact that Carrie took 
 the money. No deep, sinister soul with ulterior motives 
 could have given her fifteen cents under the guise of 
 friendship. The unintellectual are not so helpless. Na- 
 ture has taught the beasts of the field to fly when some 
 unheralded danger threatens. She has put into the small, 
 unwise head of the chipmunk the untutored fear of poi- 
 sons. "He keepeth His creatures whole," was not written 
 of beasts alone. Carrie was unwise, and, therefore, like 
 the sheep in its unwisdom, strong in feeling. The in- 
 stinct of self-protection, strong in all such natures, was 
 roused but feebly, if at all, by the overtures of Drouet. 
 
 When Carrie had gone, he felicitated himself upon her 
 good opinion. By George, it was a shame young girls 
 had to be knocked around like that. Cold weather com- 
 ing on and no clothes. Tough. He would go around 
 to Fitzgerald and Moy.'s and get a cigar. It made him 
 feel light of foot as he thought about her. 
 
 Carrie reached home in high good spirits, which she 
 could scarcely conceal. The possession of the money in- 
 volved a number of points which perplexed her seriously. 
 How should she buy any clothes when Minnie knew that 
 she had no money? She had no sooner entered the flat
 
 SISTER CARRIE 73 
 
 than this point was settled for her. It could not be done. 
 She could think of no way of explaining. 
 
 " How did you come out? " asked Minnie, referring to 
 the day. 
 
 Carrie had none of the small deception which could feel 
 one thing and say something directly opposed. She 
 would prevaricate, but it would be in the line of her feel- 
 ings at least. So instead of complaining when she felt 
 so good, she said: 
 
 " I have the promise of something." 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 " At the Boston Store." 
 
 " Is it sure promised? " questioned Minnie. 
 
 " Well, I'm to find out to-morrow," returned Carrie, 
 disliking to draw out a lie any longer than was necessary. 
 
 Minnie felt the atmosphere of good feeling which Car- 
 rie brought with her. She felt now was the time to ex- 
 press to Carrie the state of Hanson's feeling about her 
 entire Chicago venture. 
 
 " If you shouldn't get it " she paused, troubled for 
 an easy way. 
 
 " If I don't get something pretty soon, I think I'll go 
 home." 
 
 Minnie saw her chance. 
 
 " Sven thinks it might be best for the winter, anyhow." 
 
 The situation flashed on Carrie at once. They were 
 unwilling to keep her any longer, out of work. She did 
 not blame Minnie, she did not blame Hanson very much. 
 Now, as she sat there digesting the remark, she was glad 
 she had Drouet's money. 
 
 " Yes," she said after a few moments, " I thought of 
 doing that." 
 
 She did not explain that the thought, however, had 
 aroused all the antagonism of her nature. Columbia 
 City, what was there for her? She knew its dull, little
 
 74 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 round by heart. Here was the great, mysterious city 
 which was still a magnet for her. What she had seen 
 only suggested its possibilities. Now to turn back on it 
 and live the little old life out there she almost exclaimed 
 against the thought. 
 
 She had reached home early and went in the front room 
 to think. What could she do? She could not buy new 
 shoes and wear them here. She would need to save part 
 of the twenty to pay her fare home. She did not want to 
 borrow of Minnie for that. And yet, how could she ex- 
 plain where she even got that money ? If she could only 
 get enough to let her out easy. 
 
 She went over the tangle again and again. Here, in 
 the morning, Drouet would expect to see her in a new 
 jacket, and that couldn't be. The Hansons expected her 
 to go home, and she wanted to get away, and yet she did 
 not want to go home. In the light of the way they would 
 look on her getting money without work, the taking of it 
 now seemed dreadful. She began to be ashamed. The 
 whole situation depressed her. It was all so clear when 
 she was with Drouet. Now it was all so tangled, so hope- 
 less much worse than it was before, because she had the 
 semblance of aid in her hand which she could not use. 
 
 Her spirits sank so that at supper Minnie felt that she 
 must have had another hard day. Carrie finally decided 
 that she would give the money back. It was wrong to 
 take it. She would go down in the morning and hunt for 
 work. At noon she would meet Drouet as agreed and tell 
 him. At this decision her heart sank, until she was the 
 old Carrie of distress. 
 
 Curiously, she could not hold the money in her hand 
 without feeling- some relief. Even after all her depressing 
 conclusions, she could sweep away all thought about the 
 matter and then the twenty dollars seemed a wonderful 
 and delightful thing. Ah, money, money, money! What
 
 SISTER CARRIE 75 
 
 a thing it was to have. How plenty of it would clear 
 away all these troubles. 
 
 In the morning she got up and started out a little early. 
 Her decision to hunt for work was moderately strong, but 
 the money in her pocket, after all her troubling over it, 
 made the work question the least shade less terrible. She 
 walked into the wholesale district, but as the thought of 
 applying came with each passing concern, her heart 
 shrank. What a coward she was, she thought to herself. 
 Yet she had applied so often. It would be the same old 
 story. She walked on and on, and finally did go into one 
 place, with the old result. She came out feeling that luck 
 was against her. It was no use. 
 
 Without much thinking, she reached Dearborn Street 
 Here was the great Fair store with its multitude of de- 
 livery wagons about, its long window display, its crowd of 
 shoppers. It readily changed her thoughts, she who was 
 so weary of them. It was here that she had intended to 
 come and get her new things. Now for relief from dis- 
 tress; she thought she would go in and see. She would 
 look at the jackets. 
 
 There is nothing in this world more delightful than that 
 middle state in which we mentally balance at times, pos- 
 sessed of the means, lured by desire, and yet deterred by 
 conscience or want of decision. When Carrie began 
 wandering around the store amid the fine displays she was 
 in this mood. Her original experience in this same place 
 had given her a high opinion of its merits. Now she 
 paused at each individual bit of finery, where before she 
 had hurried on. Her woman's heart was warm with de- 
 sire for them. How would she look in this, how charm- 
 ing that would make her! She came upon the corset 
 counter and paused in rich reverie as she noted the dainty 
 concoctions of colour and lace there displayed. If she 
 would only make up her mind, she could have one of
 
 76 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 those now. She lingered in the jewelry department. She 
 saw the earrings, the bracelets, the pins, the chains. What 
 would she not have given if she could have had them all! 
 She would look fine too, if only she had some of these 
 things. 
 
 The jackets were the greatest attraction. When she 
 entered the store, she already had her heart fixed upon 
 the peculiar little tan jacket with large mother-of-pearl, 
 buttons which was all the rage that fall. Still she de- 
 lighted to convince herself that there was nothing she 
 would like better. She went about among the glass cases 
 and racks where these things were displayed, and satis- 
 fied herself that the one she thought of was the proper one. 
 All the time she wavered in mind, now persuading herself 
 that she could buy it right away if she chose, now recall- 
 ing to herself the actual condition. At last the noon hour 
 was dangerously near, and she had done nothing. She 
 must go now and return the money. 
 
 Drouet was on the corner when she came up. 
 
 " Hello," he said, " where is the jacket and " looking 
 down " the shoes? " 
 
 Carrie had thought to lead up to her decision in some 
 intelligent way, but this swept the whole fore-schemed 
 situation by the board. 
 
 " I came to tell you that that I can't take the money." 
 
 " Oh, that's it, is it?" he returned. " Well, you come 
 on with me. Let's go over here to Partridge's." 
 
 Carrie walked with him. Behold, the whole fabric of 
 doubt and impossibility had slipped from her mind. She 
 could not get at the points that were so serious, the things 
 she was going to make plain to him. 
 
 " Have you had lunch yet? Of course you haven't. 
 Let's go in here," and Drouet turned into one of the very 
 nicely furnished restaurants off State Street, in Monroe. 
 
 " I mustn't take the money," said Carrie, after they
 
 SISTER CARRIE 77 
 
 were settled in a cosey corner, and Drouet had ordered 
 the lunch. " I can't wear those things out there. They 
 they wouldn't know where I got them." 
 
 " What do you want to do," he smiled, " go without 
 them?" 
 
 " I think I'll go home," she said, wearily. 
 
 " Oh, come," he said, " you've been thinking it over too 
 long. I'll tell you what you do. You say you can't wear 
 them out there. Why don't you rent a furnished room 
 and leave them in that for a week? " 
 
 Carrie shook her head. Like all women, she was there 
 to object and be convinced. It was for him to brush 
 the doubts away and clear the path if he could. 
 
 " Why are you going home? " he asked. 
 
 " Oh, I can't get anything here." 
 
 " They won't keep you? " he remarked, intuitively. 
 
 " They can't," said Carrie. 
 
 " I'll tell you what you do," he said. " You come with 
 me. I'll take care of you." 
 
 Carrie heard this passively. The peculiar state which 
 she was in made it sound like the welcome breath of an 
 open door. Drouet seemed of her own spirit and pleas- 
 ing. He was clean, handsome, well-dressed, and sympa- 
 thetic. His voice was the voice of a friend. 
 
 " What can you do back at Columbia City? " he went 
 on, rousing by the words in Carrie's mind a picture of the 
 dull world she had left. " There isn't anything down 
 there. Chicago's the place. You can get a nice room 
 here and some clothes, and then you can do something." 
 
 Carrie looked out through the window into the busy 
 street. There it was, the admirable, great city, so fine 
 when you are not poor. An elegant coach, with a pran- 
 cing pair of bays, passed by, carrying in its upholstered 
 depths a young lady. 
 
 " What will you have if you go back ? " asked Drouet.
 
 y8 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 There was no subtle undercurrent to the question. He 
 imagined that she would have nothing at all of the things 
 he thought worth while. 
 
 Carrie sat still, looking out. She was wondering what 
 she could do. They would be expecting her to go home 
 this week. 
 
 Drouet turned to the subject of the clothes she was 
 going to buy. 
 
 " Why not get yourself a nice little jacket? You've got 
 to have it. I'll loan you the money. You needn't worry 
 about taking it. You can get yourself a nice room by 
 yourself. I won't hurt you." 
 
 Carrie saw the drift, but could not express her thoughts. 
 She felt more than ever the helplessness of her case. 
 
 " If I could only get something to do," she said. 
 
 " Maybe you can," went on Drouet, " if you stay here. 
 You can't if you go away. They won't let you stay out 
 there. -Now, why not let me get you a nice room? I 
 won't bother you you needn't be afraid. Then, when 
 you get fixed up, maybe you could get something." 
 
 He looked at her pretty face and it vivified his mental 
 resources. She was a sweet little mortal to him there 
 was no doubt of that. She seemed to have some power 
 back of her actions. She was not like the common run 
 of store-girls. She wasn't silly. 
 
 In reality, Carrie had more imagination than he more 
 taste. It was a finer mental strain in her that made pos- 
 sible her depression and loneliness. Her poor clothes were 
 neat, and she held her head unconsciously in a dainty way. 
 
 " Do you think I could get something? " she asked. 
 
 " Sure," ne said, reaching over and filling her cup with 
 tea. " I'll help you." 
 
 She looked at him, and he laughed reassuringly. 
 
 " Now I'll tell you what we'll do. We'll go over here 
 to Partridge's and you pick out what you want. Then
 
 SISTER CARRIE ft 
 
 we'll look around for a room for you. You can leavt 
 the things there. Then we'll go to the show to-night." 
 
 Carrie shook her head. 
 
 " Well, you can go out to the flat then, that's all right 
 You don't need to stay in the room. Just take it and 
 leave your things there." 
 
 She hung in doubt about this until the dinner was 
 over. 
 
 " Let's go over and look at the jackets," he said. 
 
 Together they went. In the store they found that 
 shine and rustle of new things which immediately laid 
 hold of Carrie's heart. Under the influence of a good 
 dinner and Drouet's radiating presence, the scheme pro- 
 posed seemed feasible. She looked about and picked a 
 jacket like the one which she had admired at The Fair. 
 When she got it in her hand it seemed so much nicer. 
 The saleswoman helped her on with it, and, by accident, 
 it fitted perfectly. Drouet's face lightened as he saw the 
 improvement. She looked quite smart. 
 
 " That's the thing," he said. 
 
 Carrie turned before the glass. She could not help 
 feeling pleased as she looked at herself. A warm glow 
 crept into her cheeks. 
 
 " That's the thing," said Drouet. " Now pay for it." 
 
 " It's nine dollars," said Carrie. 
 
 " That's all right take it," said Drouet. 
 
 She reached in her purse and took out one of the bills. 
 The woman asked if she would wear the coat and went 
 off. In a few minutes she was back and the purchase was 
 closed. 
 
 From Partridge's they went to a shoe store, where 
 Carrie was fitted for shoes. Drouet stood by, and when 
 he saw how nice they looked, said, " Wear them." Car- 
 rie shook her head, however. She was thinking of re- 
 turning to the flat. He bought her a purse for one thing,
 
 80 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 and a pair of gloves for another, and let her buy the 
 stockings. 
 
 " To-morrow," he said, " you come down here and buy 
 yourself a skirt." 
 
 In all of Carrie's actions there was a touch of misgiving. 
 The deeper she sank into the entanglement, the more she 
 imagined that the thing hung upon the few remaining 
 things she had not done. Since she had not done these, 
 there was a way out. 
 
 Drouet knew a place in Wabash Avenue where there 
 were rooms. He showed Carrie the outside of these, and 
 said: " Now, you're my sister." He carried the arrange- 
 ment off with an easy hand when it came to the selection, 
 looking around, criticising, opining. " Her trunk will be 
 here in a day or so," he observed to the landlady, who was 
 very pleased. 
 
 When they were alone, Drouet did not change in the 
 least. He talked in the same general way as if they were 
 out in the street. Carrie left her things. 
 
 " Now," said Drouet, " why don't you move to-night? " 
 
 " Oh, I can't," said Carrie. 
 
 " Why not? " 
 
 " I don't want to leave them so." 
 
 He took that up as they walked along the avenue. It 
 was a warm afternoon. The sun had come out and the 
 wind had died down. As he talked with Carrie, he se- 
 cured an accurate detail of the atmosphere of the flat. 
 
 " Come out of it," he said, " they won't care. I'll help 
 you get along." 
 
 She listened until her misgivings vanished. He would 
 show her about a little and then help her get something. 
 He really imagined that he would. He would be out on 
 the road and she could be working. 
 
 " Now, I'll tell you what you do," he said, " you go out 
 there and get whatever you want and come away."
 
 SISTER CARRIE fei 
 
 She thought a long time about this. Finally she 
 agreed. He would come out as far as Peoria Street and 
 wait for her. She was to meet him at half-past eight. At 
 half-past five she reached home, and at six her determina- 
 tion was hardened. 
 
 " So you didn't get it?" said Minnie, referring to Car- 
 tie's story of the Boston Store. 
 
 Carrie looked at her out of the corner of her eye. 
 " No," she answered. 
 
 " I don't think you'd better try any more this fall," said 
 Minnie. 
 
 Carrie said nothing. 
 
 When Hanson came home he wore the same inscru- 
 table demeanour. He washed in silence and went off to 
 read his paper. At dinner Carrie felt a little nervous. 
 The strain of her own plans was considerable, and the 
 feeling that she was not welcome here was strong. 
 
 " Didn't find anything, eh? " said Hanson. 
 
 " No." 
 
 He turned to his eating again, the thought that it was 
 a burden to have her here dwelling in his mind. She 
 would have to go home, that was all. Once she was 
 away, there would be no more coming back in the spring. 
 
 Carrie was afraid of what she was going to do, but she 
 was relieved to know that this condition was ending. They 
 would not care. Hanson particularly would be glad 
 when she went. He would not care what became of her. 
 
 After dinner she went into the bathroom, where they 
 could not disturb her, and wrote a little note. 
 
 " Good-bye, Minnie," it read. " I'm not going home. 
 I'm going to stay in Chicago a little while and look for 
 work. Don't worry. I'll be all right." 
 
 In the front room Hanson was reading his paper. As 
 usual, she helped Minnie clear away the dishes and 
 straighten up. Then she said:
 
 82 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 " I guess I'll stand down at the door a little while." 
 She could scarcely prevent her voice from trembling. 
 
 Minnie remembered Hanson's remonstrance. 
 
 " Sven doesn't think it looks good to stand down there," 
 she said. 
 
 " Doesn't he?" said Carrie. " I won't do it any more 
 after this." 
 
 She put on her hat and fidgeted around^the table in the 
 little bedroom, wondering where to slip the note. Finally 
 she put it under Minnie's hair-brush. 
 
 When she had closed the hall-door, she paused a mo- 
 ment and wondered what they would think. Some 
 thought of the queerness of her deed affected her. She 
 went slowly down the stairs. She looked back up the 
 lighted step, and then affected to stroll up the street. 
 When she reached the corner she quickened her pace. 
 
 As she was hurrying away, Hanson came back to his 
 wife. 
 
 " Is Carrie down at the door again? " he asked. 
 
 " Yes," said Minnie; " she said she wasn't going to do 
 it any more." 
 
 He went over to the baby where it was playing on the 
 floor and began to poke his finger at it. 
 
 Drouet was on the corner waiting, in good spirits. 
 
 " Hello, Carrie," he said, as a sprightly figure of a girl 
 drew near him. " Got here safe, did you? Well, we'll 
 take a. car."
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 INTIMATIONS BY WINTER: AN AMBASSADOR SUMMONED 
 
 Among the forces which sweep and play throughout 
 the universe, untutored man is but a wisp in the wind. 
 Our civilisation is still in a middle stage, scarcely beast, 
 in that it is no longer wholly guided by instinct; scarcely 
 human, in that it is not yet wholly guided by reason. On 
 the tiger no responsibility rests. We see him aligned by 
 nature with the forces of life he is born into their keep~ 
 ing and without thought he is protected. We see man 
 far removed from the lairs of the jungles, his innate in- 
 stincts dulled by too near an approach to free-will, his 
 free-will not sufficiently developed to replace his instincts 
 and afford him perfect guidance. He is becoming too 
 wise to hearken always to instincts and desires; he is still 
 too weak to always prevail against them. As a beast, the 
 forces of life aligned him with them; as a man, he has not 
 yet wholly learned to align himself with the forces. In 
 this intermediate stage he wavers neither drawn in har- 
 mony with nature by his instincts nor yet wisely putting 
 himself into harmony by his own free-will. He is even 
 as a wisp in the wind, moved by every breath of passion^ 
 acting now by his will and now by his instincts, erring 
 with one, only to retrieve by the other, falling by one, only 
 to rise by the other a creature of incalculable variability. 
 We have the consolation of knowing that evolution is ever 
 in action, that the ideal is a light that cannot fail. He will 
 not forever balance thus between good and evil. When
 
 84 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 this jangle of free-will and instinct shall have been ad- 
 justed, when perfect understanding has given the former 
 the power to replace the latter entirely, man will no longer 
 vary. The needle of understanding will yet point stead- 
 fast and unwavering to the distant pole of truth. 
 
 In Carrie as in how many of our worldlings do they 
 not ? instinct and reason, desire and understanding, were 
 at war for the mastery. She followed whither her crav- 
 ing led. She was as yet more drawn than she drew. 
 
 When Minnie found the note next morning, after a 
 night of mingled wonder and anxiety, which was not ex- 
 actly touched by yearning, sorrow, or love, she exclaimed: 
 " Well, what do you think of that? " 
 
 " What? " said Hanson. 
 
 " Sister Carrie has gone to live somewhere else." 
 
 Hanson jumped out of bed with more celerity than he 
 usually displayed and looked at the note. The only in- 
 dication of his thoughts came in the form of a little click- 
 ing sound made by his tongue; the sound some people 
 make when they wish to urge on a horse. 
 
 " Where do you suppose she's gone to? " said Minnie, 
 thoroughly aroused. 
 
 " I don't know," a touch of cynicism lighting his eye. 
 " Now she has gone and done it." 
 
 Minnie moved her head in a puzzled way. 
 
 " Oh, oh," she said, " she doesn't know what she has 
 done." 
 
 " Well," said Hanson, after a while, sticking his hands 
 Out before him, " what can you do? " 
 
 Minnie's womanly nature was higher than this. She 
 figured the possibilities in such cases. 
 
 " Oh," she said at last, " poor Sister Carrie! " 
 
 At the time of this particular conversation, which oc- 
 curred at 5 A. M., that little soldier of fortune was sleeping 
 a rather troubled sleep in her new room, alone.
 
 SISTER CARRIE 85 
 
 Carrie's new state was remarkable in that she saw pos- 
 sibilities in it. She was no sensualist, longing to drowse 
 sleepily in the lap of luxury. She turned about, troubled 
 by her daring, glad of her release, wondering whether she 
 would get something to do, wondering what Drouet 
 would do. That worthy had his future fixed for him be- 
 'yond a peradventure. He could not help what he was 
 going to do. He could not see clearly enough to wish 
 to do differently. He was drawn by his innate desire to 
 act the old pursuing part. He would need to delight 
 himself with Carrie as surely as he would need to eat his 
 heavy breakfast. He might suffer the least rudimentary 
 twinge of conscience in whatever he did, and in just so 
 far he was evil and sinning. But whatever twinges of 
 conscience he might have would be rudimentary, you may 
 be sure. 
 
 The next day he called upon Carrie, and she saw him 
 in her chamber. He was the same jolly, enlivening soul, 
 
 " Aw," he said, " what are you looking so blue about? 
 Come on out to breakfast. You want to get your other 
 clothes to-day." 
 
 Carrie looked at him with the hue of shifting thought 
 in her large eyes. 
 
 " I wish I could get something to do," she said. 
 
 " You'll get that all right," said Drouet. " What's the 
 use worrying right now? Get yourself fixed up. See 
 the city. I won't hurt you." 
 
 " I know you won't," she remarked, half truthfully. 
 
 " Got on the new shoes, haven't you? Stick 'em out. 
 George, they look fine. Put on your jacket." 
 
 Carrie obeyed. 
 
 " Say, that fits like a T, don't it? " he remarked, feeling 
 the set of it at the waist and eyeing it from a few paces 
 with real pleasure. " What you need now is a new 
 skirt. Let's go to breakfast."
 
 86 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 Carrie put on her hat. 
 
 " Where are the gloves? " he inquired. 
 
 " Here," she said, taking them out of the bureau 
 drawer. 
 
 " Now, come on," he said. 
 
 Thus the first hour of misgiving was swept away. 
 
 It went this way on every occasion. Drouet did no*i 
 leave her much alone. She had time for some lone wan- 
 derings, but mostly he filled her hours with sight-seeing. 
 At Carson, Pirie's he bought her a nice skirt and shirt 
 waist. With his money she purchased the little necessa- 
 ries of toilet, until at last she looked quite another maiden. 
 The mirror convinced her of a few things which she had 
 long believed. She was pretty, yes, indeed! How nice 
 her hat set, and weren't her eyes pretty. She caught her 
 little red lip with her teeth and felt her first thrill of power. 
 Drouet was so good. 
 
 They went to see " The Mikado " one evening, an opera 
 which was hilariously popular at that time. Before going, 
 they made off for the Windsor dining-room, which was 
 in Dearborn Street, a considerable distance from Carrie's 
 room. It was blowing up cold, and out of her window 
 Carrie could see the western sky, still pink with the fading 
 light, but steely blue at the top where it met the dark- 
 ness. A long, thin cloud of pink hung in midair, shaped 
 like some island in a far-off sea. Somehow the swaying 
 of some dead branches of trees across the way brought 
 back the picture with which she was familiar when she 
 looked from their front window in December days at 
 home. 
 
 She paused and wrung her little hands. 
 
 " What's the matter? " said Drouet. 
 
 " Oh, I don't know," she said, her lip trembling. 
 
 He sensed something, and slipped his arm over hei 
 shoulder, patting her arm.
 
 SISTER CARRIE 8; 
 
 " Come on," he said gently, " you're all right." 
 
 She turned to slip on her jacket. 
 
 " Better wear that boa about your throat to-night." 
 
 They walked north on Wabash to Adams Street and 
 then west. The lights in the stores were already shining 
 out in gushes of golden hue. The arc lights were sputter- 
 ing overhead, and high up were the lighted windows of 
 the tall office buildings. The chill wind whipped in and 
 out in gusty breaths. Homeward bound, the six o'clock 
 throng bumped and jostled. Light overcoats were turned 
 up about the ears, hats were pulled down. Little shop- 
 girls went fluttering by in pairs and fours, chattering, 
 laughing. It was a spectacle of warm-blooded hu- 
 manity. 
 
 Suddenly a pair of eyes met Carrie's in recognition. 
 They were looking out from a group of poorly dressed 
 girls. Their clothes were faded and loose-hanging, their 
 jackets old, their general make-up shabby. 
 
 Carrie recognised the glance and the girl. She was one 
 of those who worked at the machines in the shoe factory. 
 The latter looked, not quite sure, and then turned her 
 head and looked. Carrie felt as if some great tide had 
 rolled between them. The old dress and the old machine 
 came back. She actually started. Drouet didn't notice 
 until Carrie bumped into a pedestrian. 
 
 " You must be thinking," he said. 
 
 They dined and went to the theatre. That spectacle 
 pleased Carrie immensely. The colour and grace of it 
 caught her eye. She had vain imaginings about place 
 and power, about far-off lands and magnificent people. 
 When it was over, the clatter of coaches and the throng 
 of fine ladies made her stare. 
 
 " Wait a minute," said Drouet, holding her back in the 
 showy foyer where ladies and gentlemen were moving in 
 a social crush, skirts rustling, lace-covered heads nod-
 
 88 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 ding, white teeth showing through parted lips. " Let's 
 see." 
 
 " Sixty-seven," the coach-caller was saying, his voice 
 lifted in a sort of euphonious cry. " Sixty-seven." 
 
 " Isn't it fine? " said Carrie. 
 
 " Great," said Drouet. He was as much affected by 
 this show of finery and gayety as she. He pressed her 
 arm warmly. Once she looked up, her even teeth glisten- 
 ing through her smiiing lips, her eyes alight. As they 
 were moving out he whispered down to her, " You look 
 lovely! " They were right where the coach-caller was 
 swinging open a coach-door and ushering in two 
 ladies. 
 
 " You stick to me and we'll have a coach," laughed 
 Drouet. 
 
 Carrie scarcely heard, her head was so full of the swirl 
 of life. 
 
 They stopped in at a restaurant for a little after-theatre 
 lunch. Just a shade of a thought of the hour entered 
 Carrie's head, but there was no household law to govern 
 her now. If any habits ever had time to fix upon her, 
 they would have operated here. Habits are peculiar 
 things. They will drive the really non-religious mind out 
 of bed to say prayers that are only a custom and not a 
 devotion. The victim of habit, When he has neglected 
 the thing which it was his custom to do, feels a little 
 scratching in the brain, a little irritating something which 
 comes of being out of the rut, and imagines it to be the 
 prick of conscience, the still, small voice that is urging 
 him ever to righteousness. If the digression is unusual 
 enough, the drag of habit will be heavy enough to cause 
 the unreasoning victim to return and perform the per- 
 functory thing. " Now, bless me," says such a mind, " I 
 have done my duty," when, as a matter of fact, it has 
 merely done its old, unbreakable trick once again.
 
 SISTER CARRIE 89 
 
 Carrie had no excellent home principles fixed upon her. 
 If she had, she would have been more consciously dis- 
 tressed. Now the lunch went off with considerable 
 warmth. Under the influence of the varied occurrences, 
 the fine, invisible passion which was emanating from 
 Drouet, the food, the still unusual luxury, she relaxed and 
 heard with open ears. She was again the victim of the 
 city's hypnotic influence. 
 
 " Well," said Drouet at last, " we had better be going." 
 
 They had been dawdling over the dishes, and their eyes 
 had frequently met. Carrie could not help but feel the 
 vibration of force which followed, which, indeed, was his 
 gaze. He had a way of touching her hand in explana- 
 tion, as if to impress a fact upon her. He touched it now 
 as he spoke of going. 
 
 They arose and went out into the street. The down- 
 town section was now bare, save for a few whistling stroll- 
 ers, a few owl cars, a few open resorts whose windows 
 were stiil bright. Out Wabash Avenue they strolled, 
 Drouet still pouring forth his volume of small informa- 
 tion. He had Carrie's arm in his, and held it closely as 
 he explained. Once in a while, after some witticism, he 
 would look down, and his eyes would meet hers. At last 
 they came to the steps, and Carrie stood up on the first 
 one, her head now coming even with his own. He took 
 her hand and held it genially. He looked steadily at her 
 as she glanced about, warmly musing. 
 
 At about that hour, Minnie was soundly sleeping, after 
 a long evening of troubled thought. She had her elbow 
 in an awkward position under her side. The muscles so 
 held irritated a few nerves, and now a vague scene floated 
 in on the drowsy mind. She fancied she and Carrie were 
 somewhere beside an old coal-mine. She could see the 
 tall runway and the heap of earth and coal cast out. 
 There was a deep pit, into which they were looking; they
 
 90 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 could see the curious wet stones far down where the wall 
 disappeared in vague shadows. An old basket, used for 
 descending, was hanging there, fastened by a worn rope. 
 
 " Let's get in," said Carrie. 
 
 " Oh, no," said Minnie. 
 
 " Yes, come on," said Carrie. 
 
 She began to pull the basket over, and now, in spite of 
 all protest, she had swung over and was going down. 
 
 " Carrie," she called, " Carrie, come back ; " but Carrie 
 was far down now and the shadow had swallowed her 
 completely. 
 
 She moved her arm. 
 
 Now the mystic scenery merged queerly and the place 
 was by waters she had never seen. They were upon some 
 board or ground or something that reached far out, and 
 at the end of this was Carrie. They looked about, and 
 now the thing was sinking, and Minnie heard the low sip 
 of the encroaching water. 
 
 " Come on, Carrie," she called, but Carrie was reaching 
 farther out. She seemed to recede, and now it was diffi- 
 cult to call to her. 
 
 " Carrie," she called, " Carrie," but her own voice 
 sounded far away, and the strange waters were blurring 
 everything. She came away suffering as though she had 
 lost something. She was more inexpressibly sad than 
 she had ever been in life. 
 
 It was this way through many shifts of the tired brain, 
 those curious phantoms of the spirit slipping in, blurring 
 strange scenes, one with the other. The last one made 
 her cry out, for Carrie was slipping away somewhere over 
 a rock, and her fingers had let loose and she had seen her 
 falling. 
 
 " Minnie! What's the matter? Here, wake up," said 
 Hanson, disturbed, and shaking her by the shoulder. 
 
 '" Wha what's the matter?" said Minnie, drowsily.
 
 SISTER CARRIE 91 
 
 " Wake up," he said, " and turn over. You're talking 
 in your sleep." 
 
 A week or so later Drouet strolled into Fitzgerald and 
 Moy's, spruce in dress and manner. 
 
 " Hello, Charley," said Hurstwood, looking out from 
 his office door. 
 
 Drouet strolled over and looked in upon the manager 
 at his desk. 
 
 " When do you go out on the road again? " he inquired 
 
 " Pretty soon," said Drouet. 
 
 " Haven't seen much of you this trip," said Hurstwood. 
 
 " Well, I've been busy," said Drouet. 
 
 They talked some few minutes on general topics. 
 
 " Say," said Drouet, as if struck by a sudden idea, " 1 
 want you to come out some evening." 
 
 " Out where? " inquired Hurstwood. 
 
 " Out to my house, of course," said Drouet, smiling. 
 
 Hurstwood looked up quizzically, the least suggestion 
 of a smile hovering about his lips. He studied the face 
 of Drouet in his wise way, and then with the demeanour 
 of a gentleman, said: " Certainly; glad to." 
 
 " We'll have a nice game of euchre." 
 
 " May I bring a nice little bottle of Sec? " asked Hursx 
 wood. 
 
 " Certainly," said Drouet. " I'll introduce you."
 
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 CONVENTION'S OWN TINDER-BOX : THE ^YE THAT is 
 GREEN 
 
 Hurstwood's residence on the North Side, near Lin- 
 coln Park, was a brick building of a very popular type 
 then, a three-story affair with the first floor sunk a very 
 little below the level of the street. It had a large bay 
 window bulging out from the second floor, and was 
 graced in front by a small grassy plot, twenty-five feet 
 wide and ten feet deep. There was also a small rear yard, 
 walled in by the fences of the neighbours and holding a 
 stable where he kept his horse and trap. 
 
 The ten rooms of the house were occupied by himself, 
 his wife Julia, and his son and daughter, George, Jr., and 
 Jessica. There were besides these a maid-servant, repre- 
 sented from time to time by girls of various extraction, 
 for Mrs. Hurstwood was not always easy to please. 
 
 " George, I let Mary go yesterday," was not an un- 
 frequent salutation at the dinner table. 
 
 " All right," was his only reply. He had long since 
 wearied of discussing the rancorous subject. 
 
 A lovely home atmosphere is one of the flowers of the 
 world, than which there is nothing more tender, nothing 
 more delicate, nothing more calculated to make strong 
 and just the natures cradled and nourished within it. 
 Those who have never experienced such a beneficent in- 
 fluence will not understand wherefore the tear springs 
 glistening to the eyelids at some strange breath in loveb
 
 SISTER CARRIE 93 
 
 music. The mystic chords which bind and thrill the 
 heart of the nation, they will never know. 
 
 Hurstwood's residence could scarcely be said to be in- 
 fused with this home spirit. It lacked that toleration and 
 regard without which the home is nothing. There was 
 fine furniture, arranged as soothingly as the artistic per- 
 ception of the occupants warranted. There were soft 
 rugs, rich, upholstered chairs and divans, a grand piano, 
 a marble carving of some unknown Venus by some un- 
 known artist, and a number of small bronzes gathered 
 from heaven knows where, but generally sold by the large 
 furniture houses along with everything else which goes 
 to make the " perfectly appointed house." 
 
 In the dining-room stood a sideboard laden with glis- 
 tening decanters and other utilities and ornaments in 
 glass, the arrangement of which could not be questioned. 
 Here was something Hurstwood knew about. He had 
 studied the subject for years in his business. He took 
 no little satisfaction in telling each Mary, shortly after she 
 arrived, something of what the art of the thing required. 
 He was not garrulous by any means. On the contrary, 
 there was a fine reserve in his manner toward the entire 
 domestic economy of his life which was all that is compre- 
 hended by the popular term, gentlemanly. He would not 
 argue, he would not talk freely. In his manner was 
 something of the dogmatist. What he could not correct, 
 he would ignore. There was a tendency in him to walk 
 away from the impossible thing. 
 
 There was a time when he had been considerably 
 enamoured of his Jessica, especially when he was younger 
 and more confined in his succe?s. Now, however, in her 
 seventeenth year, Jessica had developed a certain amount 
 of reserve and independence which was not inviting to 
 the richest form of parental devotion. She was in the 
 high school, and had notions of life which were decidedly
 
 94 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 those of a patrician. She liked nice clothes and urged for 
 them constantly. Thoughts of love and elegant indi- 
 vidual establishments were running in her head. She 
 met girls at the high school whose parents were truly rich 
 and whose fathers had standing locally as partners or 
 owners of solid businesses. These girls gave themselves 
 the airs befitting the thriving domestic establishments 
 from whence they issued. They were the only ones of the 
 school about whom Jessica concerned herself. 
 
 Young Hurstwood, Jr., was in his twentieth year, and 
 was already connected in a promising capacity with a 
 large real estate firm. He contributed nothing for the 
 domestic expenses of the family, but was thought to be 
 saving his money to invest in real estate. He had some 
 ability, considerable vanity, and a love of pleasure that 
 had not, as yet. infringed upon his duties, whatever they 
 were. He came in and went out, pursuing his own plans 
 and fancies, addressing a few words to his mother occa- 
 sionally, relating some little incident to his father, but for 
 the most part confining himself to those generalities with 
 which most conversation concerns itself. He was not lay- 
 ing bare his desires for any one to see. He did not find 
 any one in the house who particularly cared to see. 
 
 Mrs. Hurstwood was the type of the woman who has 
 ever endeavoured to shine and has been more or less 
 chagrined at the evidences of superior capability in this 
 direction elsewhere. Her knowledge of life extended to 
 that little conventional round of society of which she was 
 not but longed to be a member. She was not without 
 realisation already that this thing was impossible, so far 
 as she was concerned. For her daughter, she hoped bet- 
 ter things. Through Jessica she might rise a little. 
 Through George, Jr.'s, possible success she might draw to 
 herself the privilege of pointing proudly. Even Hurst- 
 wood was doing well enough, and she was anxious that
 
 SISTER CARRIE 95 
 
 his small real estate adventures should prosper. His 
 property holdings, as yet, were rather small, but his in- 
 come was pleasing and his position with Fitzgerald and 
 Moy was fixed. Both those gentlemen were on pleasant 
 and rather informal terms with him. 
 
 The atmosphere which such personalities would create 
 must be apparent to all. It worked out in a thousand 
 little conversations, all of which were of the same calibre. 
 
 " I'm going up to Fox Lake to-morrow," announced 
 George, Jr., at the dinner table one Friday evening. 
 
 "What's going on up there?" queried Mrs. Hurst- 
 wood. 
 
 " Eddie Fahrway's got a new steam launch, and he 
 wants me to come up and see how it works." 
 
 " How much did it cost him? " asked his mother. 
 
 " Oh, over two thousand dollars. He says it's a 
 dandy." 
 
 " Old Fahrway must be making money," put in Hurst- 
 wood. 
 
 " He is, I guess. Jack told me they were shipping 
 Vega-cura to Australia now said they sent a whole box 
 to Cape Town last week." 
 
 " Just think of that! " said Mrs. Hurstwood, " and only 
 four years ago they had that basement in Madison Street." 
 
 " Jack told me they were going to put up a six-story 
 building next spring in Robey Street." 
 
 " Just think of that! " said Jessica. 
 
 On this particular occasion Hurstwood wished to leave 
 early. 
 
 " I guess I'll be going down town," he remarked, rising. 
 
 "Are we going to McVicker's Monday?" questioned 
 Mrs. Hurstwood, without rising. 
 
 " Yes," he said indifferently. 
 
 They went on dining-, while he went upstairs for his hat 
 and coat. Presently the door clicked.
 
 g6 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 " I guess papa's gone," said Jessica. 
 
 The latter's school news was of a particular stripe. 
 
 " They're going to give a performance in the Lyceum^ 
 upstairs," she reported one day, " and I'm going to be in 
 it." 
 
 " Are you? " said her mother. 
 
 " Yes, and I'll have to have a new dress. Some of the 
 nicest girls in the school are going to be in it. Miss 
 Palmer is going to take the part of Portia." 
 
 " Is she?" said Mrs. Hurstwood. 
 
 " They've got that Martha Griswold in it again. She 
 thinks she can act." 
 
 " Her family doesn't amount to anything, does it? " 
 said Mrs. Hurstwood sympathetically. " They haven't 
 anything, have they? " 
 
 " No," returned Jessica, " they're poor as church mice." 
 
 She distinguished very carefully between the young 
 boys of the school, many of whom were attracted by her 
 beauty. 
 
 " What do you think ? " she remarked to her mother 
 one evening ; " that Herbert Crane tried to make friends 
 with me." 
 
 " Who is he, my dear? " inquired Mrs. Hurstwood. 
 
 " Oh, no one," said Jessica, pursing her pretty lips. 
 " He's just a student there. He hasn't anything." 
 
 The other half of this picture came when young Bly- 
 ford, son of Blyford, the soap manufacturer, walked home 
 with her. Mrs. Hurstwood was on the third floor, sitting 
 in a rocking-chair reading, and happened to look out at 
 the time. 
 
 " Who was that with you, Jessica? " she inquired, as 
 Jessica came upstairs. 
 
 " It's Mr. Blyford, mamma," she replied. 
 
 " Is it? " said Mrs. Hurstwood. 
 
 " Yes, and he wants me to stroll over into the park
 
 SISTER CARRIE 97 
 
 with him," explained Jessica, a little flushed with running 
 up the stairs. 
 
 " All right, my dear," said Mrs. Hurstwood. " Don't 
 be gone long." 
 
 As the two went down the street, she glanced interest- 
 edly out of the window. It was a most satisfactory spec- 
 tacle indeed, most satisfactory. 
 
 In this atmosphere Hurstwood had moved for a num- 
 ber of years, not thinking deeply concerning it. His was 
 not the order of nature to trouble for something better, 
 unless the better was immediately and sharply contrasted. 
 As it was, he received and gave, irritated sometimes by 
 the little displays of selfish indifference, pleased at times 
 by some show of finery which supposedly made for 
 dignity and social distinction. The life of the resort 
 which he managed was his life. There he spent most of 
 his time. When he went home evenings the house looked 
 nice. With rare exceptions the meals were acceptable, 
 being the kind that an ordinary servant can arrange. In 
 part, he was interested in the talk of his son and daughter, 
 who always looked well. The vanity of Mrs. Hurstwood 
 caused her to keep her person rather showily arrayed, but 
 to Hurstwood this was much better than plainness. 
 There was no love lost between them. There was no 
 great feeling of dissatisfaction. Her opinion on any sub- 
 ject was not startling. They did not talk enough together 
 to come to the argument of any one point. In the ac- 
 cepted and popular phrase, she had her ideas and he had 
 his. Once in a while he would meet a woman whose 
 youth, sprightliness, and humour would make his wife 
 seem rather deficient by contrast, but the temporary dis- 
 satisfaction which such an encounter might arouse would 
 be counterbalanced by his social position and a certain 
 matter of policy. He could not complicate his home life, 
 because it might affect his relations with his employers.
 
 98 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 They wanted no scandals. A man, to hold his position, 
 must have a dignified manner, a clean record, a respect- 
 able home anchorage. Therefore he was circumspect in 
 all he did, and whenever he appeared in the public ways 
 in the afternoon, or on Sunday, it was with his wife, and 
 sometimes his children. He would visit the local resorts, 
 or those near by in Wisconsin, and spend a few stiff, pol- 
 ished days strolling about conventional places doing con- 
 ventional things. He knew the need of it. 
 
 When some one of the many middle-class individuals 
 whom he knew, who had money, would get into trouble, 
 he would shake his head. It didn't do to talk about those 
 things. If it came up for discussion among such friends 
 as with him passed for close, he would deprecate the folly 
 of the thing. " It was all right to do it all men do those 
 things but why wasn't he careful? A man can't be too 
 careful." He lost sympathy for the man that made a 
 mistake and was found out. 
 
 On this account he still devoted some time to showing 
 his wife about time which would have been wearisome 
 indeed if it had not been for the people he would meet and 
 the little enjoyments which did not depend upon her 
 presence or absence. He watched her with considerable 
 curiosity at times, for she was still attractive in a way and 
 men looked at her. She was affable, vain, subject to flat- 
 tery, and this combination, he knew quite well, might pro- 
 duce a tragedy in a woman of her home position. Owing 
 to his order of mind, his confidence in the sex was not 
 great. His wife never possessed the virtues which would 
 win the confidence and admiration of a man of his nature. 
 As long as she loved him vigorously he could see how 
 confidence could be, but when that was no longer the 
 binding chain well, something might happen. 
 
 During the last year or two the expenses of the family 
 seemed a large thing. Jessica wanted fine clothes, and
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 99 
 
 Mrs. Hurstwood, not to be outshone by her daughter, also 
 frequently enlivened her apparel. Hurstwood had said 
 nothing in the past, but one day he murmured. 
 
 " Jessica must have a new dress this month," said Mrs. 
 Hurstwood one morning. 
 
 Hurstwood was arraying himself in one of his perfec- 
 tion vests before the glass at the time. 
 
 " I thought she just bought one," he said. 
 
 " That was just something for evening wear," returned 
 his wife complacently. 
 
 " It seems to me," returned Hurstwood, " that she's 
 spending a good deal for dresses of late." 
 
 " Well, she's going out more," concluded his wife, but 
 the tone of his voice impressed her as containing some- 
 thing she had not heard there before. 
 
 He was not a man who travelled much, but when he 
 did, he had been accustomed to take her along. On one 
 occasion recently a local aldermanic junket had been ar- 
 ranged to visit Philadelphia a junket that was to last 
 ten days. Hurstwood had been invited. 
 
 " Nobody knows us down there," said one, a gentleman 
 whose face was a slight improvement over gross igno- 
 rance and sensuality. He always wore a silk hat of most 
 imposing proportions. " We can have a good time." Hia 
 left eye moved with just the semblance of a wink. " You 
 want to come along, George." 
 
 The next day Hurstwood announced his intention to 
 his wife. 
 
 " I'm going away, Julia," he said, " for a few days." 
 
 " Where? " she asked, looking up. 
 
 " To Philadelphia, on business." 
 
 She looked at him consciously, expecting something 
 else. 
 
 " I'll have to leave you behind this time." 
 
 " All right," she replied, but he could see that she was
 
 100 
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 thinking that it was a curious thing. Before he went she 
 asked him a few more questions, and that irritated him. 
 He began to feel that she was a disagreeable attachment. 
 
 On this trip he enjoyed himself thoroughly, and when 
 it was over he was sorry to get back. He was not will- 
 ingly a prevaricator, and hated thoroughly to make ex- 
 planations concerning it. The whole incident was glossed 
 over with general remarks, but Mrs. Hurstwood gave the 
 subject considerable thought. She drove out more, 
 dressed better, and attended theatres freely to make up 
 for it. 
 
 Such an atmosphere could hardly come under the cate- 
 gory of home life. It ran along by force of habit, by force 
 of conventional opinion. With the lapse of time it must 
 necessarily become dryer and dryer must eventually be 
 tinder, easily lighted and destroyed.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 THE COUNSEL OF WINTER: FORTUNE'S AMBASSADOR 
 CALLS 
 
 In the light of the world's attitude toward woman and 
 her duties, the nature of Carrie's mental state deserves 
 consideration. Actions such as hers are measured by an 
 arbitrary scale. Society possesses a conventional stand- 
 ard whereby it judges all things. All men should be 
 good, all women virtuous. Wherefore, villain, hast thou 
 failed? 
 
 For all the liberal analysis of Spencer and our modern 
 naturalistic philosophers, we have but an infantile percep- 
 tion of morals. There is more in the subject than mere 
 conformity to a law of evolution. It is yet deeper than 
 conformity to things of earth alone. It is more involved 
 than we, as yet, perceive. Answer, first, why the heart 
 thrills ; explain wherefore some plaintive note goes wan- 
 dering about the world, undying; make clear the rose's 
 subtle alchemy evolving its ruddy lamp in light and rain. 
 In the essence of these facts lie the first principles of 
 morals. 
 
 " Oh," thought Drouet, " how delicious is my con- 
 quest." 
 
 " Ah," thought Carrie, with mournful misgivings, 
 " what is it I have lost? " 
 
 Before this world-old proposition we stand, serious, in- 
 terested, confused; endeavouring to evolve the true theory 
 of morals the true answer to what is right. 
 
 In the view of a certain stratum of society, Carrie was
 
 102 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 comfortably established in the eyes of the starveling, 
 beaten by every wind and gusty sheet of rain, she was safe 
 in a halcyon harbour. Drouet had taken three rooms, fur- 
 nished, in Ogden Place, facing Union Park, on the West 
 Side. That was a little, green-carpeted breathing spot, 
 than which, to-day, there is nothing more beautiful in 
 Chicago. It afforded a vista pleasant to contemplate. The 
 best room looked out upon the lawn of the park, now sear 
 and brown, where a little lake lay sheltered. Over the 
 bare limbs of the trees, which now swayed in the wintry 
 wind, rose the steeple of the Union Park Congregational 
 Church, and far off the towers of several others. 
 
 The rooms were comfortably enough furnished. There 
 was a good Brussels carpet on the floor, rich in dull red 
 and lemon shades, and representing large jardinieres filled 
 with gorgeous, impossible flowers. There was a large 
 pier-glass mirror between the two windows. A large, 
 soft, green, plush-covered couch occupied one corner, 
 and several rocking-chairs were set about. Some pic- 
 tures, several rugs, a few small pieces of bric-a-brac, and 
 the tale of contents is told. 
 
 In the bedroom, off the front room, was Carrie's trunk, 
 bought by Drouet, and in the wardrobe built into the wall 
 quite an array of clothing more than she had ever pos- 
 sessed before, and of very becoming designs. There was 
 a third room for possible use as a kitchen, where Drouet 
 had Carrie establish a little portable gas stove for th 
 preparation of small lunches, oysters, Welsh rarebits, and 
 the like, of which he was exceedingly fond ; and, lastly, a 
 bath. The whole place was cosey, in that it was lighted 
 by gas and heated by furnace registers, possessing also a 
 small grate, set with an asbestos back, a method of cheer- 
 ful warming which was then first coming into use. By 
 her industry and natural love of order, which now devel- 
 oped, the place maintained an air pleasing in the extreme.
 
 SISTER CARRIE 103 
 
 Here, then, was Carrie, established in a pleasant fash- 
 ion, free of certain difficulties which most ominously 
 confronted her, laden with many new ones which were 
 of a mental order, and altogether so turned about in all 
 of her earthly relationships that she might well have been 
 a new and different individual. She looked into her 
 glass and saw a prettier Carrie than she had seen before; 
 she looked into her mind, a mirror prepared of her own 
 and the world's opinions, and saw a worse. Between 
 these two images she wavered, hesitating which to 
 believe. 
 
 " My, but you're a little beauty," Drouet was wont to 
 exclaim to her. 
 
 She would look at him with large, pleased eyes. 
 
 " You know it, don't you? " he would continue. 
 
 " Oh, I don't know," she would reply, feeling delight 
 in the fact that one should think so, hesitating to believe, 
 though she really did, that she was vain enough to think 
 so much of herself. 
 
 Her conscience, however, was not a Drouet, interested 
 to praise. There she heard a different voice, with which 
 she argued, pleaded, excused. It was no just and sapient 
 counsellor, in its last analysis. It was only an average 
 little conscience, a thing which represented the world, her 
 past environment, habit, convention, in a confused way. 
 With it, the voice of the people was truly the voice of God. 
 
 " Oh, thou failure! " said the voice. 
 
 " Why? " she questioned. 
 
 " Look at those about," came the whispered answer. 
 " Look at those who are good. How would they scorn to 
 do what you have done. Look at the good girls ; how will 
 they draw away from such as you when they know you 
 have been weak. You had not tried before you failed." 
 
 It was when Carrie was alone, looking out across the 
 park, that she would be listening: to this. It would come
 
 io4 SISTER "CARRIE 
 
 Infrequently when something else did not interfere, 
 when the pleasant side was not too apparent, when Drouet 
 was not there. It was somewhat clear in utterance at 
 first, but never wholly convincing. There was always an 
 answer, always the December days threatened. She 
 was alone ; she was desireful ; she was fearful of the 
 whistling wind. The voice of want made answer for 
 her. 
 
 Once the bright days of summer pass by, a city takes 
 on that sombre garb of grey, wrapt in which it goes about 
 its labours during the long winter. Its endless buildings 
 look grey, its sky and its streets assume a sombre hue; 
 the scattered, leafless trees and wind-blown dust and 
 paper but add to the general solemnity of colour. There 
 seems to be something in the chill breezes which scurry 
 through the long, narrow thoroughfares productive of 
 rueful thoughts. Not poets alone, nor artists, nor that 
 superior order of mind which arrogates to itself all refine- 
 ment, feel this, but dogs and all men. These feel as much 
 as the poet, though they have not the same power of ex- 
 pression. The sparrow upon the wire, the cat in the door- 
 way, the dray horse tugging his weary load, feel the long, 
 keen breaths of winter. It strikes to the heart of all life, 
 animate and inanimate. If it were not for the artificial 
 fires of merriment, the rush of profit-seeking trade, and 
 pleasure-selling amusements; if the various merchants 
 failed to make the customary display within and without 
 their establishments; if our streets were not strung with 
 signs of gorgeous hues and thronged with hurrying pur- 
 chasers, we would quickly discover how firmly the chill 
 hand of winter lays upon the heart; how dispiriting are 
 the days during which the sun withholds a portion of our 
 allowance of light and warmth. We are more dependent 
 upon these things than is often thought. We are insects 
 produced by heat, and pass without it.
 
 SISTER CARRIE IO$ 
 
 In the drag of such a grey day the secret voice would 
 reassert itself, feebly and more feebly. 
 
 Such mental conflict was not always uppermost. Car- 
 rie was not by any means a gloomy soul. More, she had 
 not the mind to get firm hold upon a definite truth. When 
 she could not find her way out of the labyrinth of ill-logic 
 which thought upon the subject created, she would turn 
 away entirely. 
 
 Drouet, all the time, was conducting himself in a model 
 way for one of his sort. He took her about a great deal, 
 spent money upon her, and when he travelled took her 
 with him. There were times when she would be alone 
 for two or three days, while he made the shorter circuits 
 of his business, but, as a rule, she saw a great deal of him. 
 
 " Say, Carrie," he said one morning, shortly after they 
 had so established themselves, " I've invited my friend 
 Hurstwood to come out some day and spend the evening 
 with us." 
 
 " Who is he? " asked Carrie, doubtfully. 
 
 " Oh, he's a nice man. He's manager of Fitzgerald 
 and Moy's." 
 
 " What's that? " said Carrie. 
 
 " The finest resort in town. It's a way-up, swell place." 
 
 Carrie puzzled a moment. She was wondering what 
 Drouet had told him, what her attitude would be. 
 
 " That's all right," said Drouet, feeling her thought. 
 " He doesn't know anything. You're Mrs. Drouet now." 
 
 There was something about this which struck Carrie as 
 slightly inconsiderate. She could see that Drouet did 
 not have the keenest sensibilities. 
 
 "Why don't we get married?" she inquired, thinking 
 of the voluble promises he had made. 
 
 " Well, we will," he said, " just as soon as I get this 
 little deal of mine closed up." 
 
 He was referring to some property which he said h
 
 106 SISTER CARKIE 
 
 had, and which required so much attention, adjustment, 
 and what not, that somehow or other it interfered with his 
 free moral, personal actions. 
 
 " Just as soon as I get back from my Denver trip in 
 January we'll do it." 
 
 Carrie accepted this as basis for hope it was a sort of 
 salve to her conscience, a pleasant way out. Under the 
 circumstances, things would be righted. Her actions 
 would be justified. 
 
 She really was not enamoured of Drouet. She was 
 more clever than he. In a dim way, she was beginning 
 to see where he lacked. If it had not been for this, if she 
 had not been able to measure and judge him in a way, she 
 would have been worse off than she was. She would have 
 adored him. She would have been utterly wretched in 
 her fear of not gaining his affection, of losing his interest, 
 of being swept away and left without an anchorage. As 
 it was, she wavered a little, slightly anxious, at first, to 
 gain him completely, but later feeling at ease in waiting. 
 She was not exactly sure what she thought of him what 
 ehe wanted to do. 
 
 When Hurstwood called, she met a man who was more 
 clever than Drouet in a hundred ways. He paid that 
 peculiar deference to women which every member of the 
 sex appreciates. He was not overawed, he was not over- 
 bold. His great charm was attentiveness. Schooled in 
 winning those birds of fine feather among his own sex, 
 the merchants and professionals who visited his resort, 
 he could use even greater tact when endeavouring to 
 prove agreeable to some one who charmed him. In a 
 pretty woman of any refinement of feeling whatsoever he 
 found his greatest incentive. He was mild, placid, 
 assured, giving the impression that he wished to be of 
 service only to do something which would make the 
 lady more pleased.
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 10; 
 
 Drouet had ability in this hue himself when the game 
 was worth the candle, but he was too much the egotist 
 to reach the polish which Hurstwood possessed. He was 
 too buoyant, too full of ruddy life, too assured. He suc- 
 ceeded with many who were not quite schooled in the art 
 of love. He failed dismally where the woman was slightly 
 experienced and possessed innate refinement. In the case 
 of Carrie he found a woman who was all of the latter, but 
 none of the former. He was lucky in the fact that oppor- 
 tunity tumbled into his lap, as it were. A few years 
 later, with a little more experience, the slightest tide of 
 success, and he had not been able to approach Carrie 
 at all. 
 
 " You ought to have a piano here, Drouet," said Hurst- 
 wood, smiling at Carrie, on the evening in question, " so 
 that your wife could play." 
 
 Drouet had not thought of that. 
 
 " So we ought," he observed readily. 
 
 " Oh, I don't play," ventured Carrie. 
 
 " It isn't very difficult," returned Hurstwood. " You 
 could do very well in a few weeks." 
 
 He was in the best form for entertaining this evening. 
 His clothes were particularly new and rich in appearance. 
 The coat lapels stood out with that medium stiffness 
 which excellent cloth possesses. The vest was of a rich 
 Scotch plaid, set with a double row of round mother-of- 
 pearl buttons. His cravat was a shiny combination of 
 silken threads, not loud, not inconspicuous. What he 
 wore did not strike the eye so forcibly as that which 
 Drouet had on, but Carrie could see the elegance of the 
 material. Hurstwood's shoes were of soft, black calf, 
 polished only to a dull shine. Drouet wore patent leather, 
 but Carrie could not help feeling that there was a distinc- 
 tion in favour of the soft leather, where all else was so 
 rich. She noticed these things almost unconsciously.
 
 108 SISTErt CARRIE 
 
 They were things which would naturally flow from the 
 situation. She was used to Drouet's appearance. 
 
 " Suppose we have a little game of euchre? " suggested 
 Hurstwood, after a light round of conversation. He was 
 rather dexterous in avoiding everything that would sug- 
 gest that he knew anything of Carrie's past. He kept away 
 from personalities altogether, and confined himself to 
 those things which did not concern individuals at all. By 
 his manner, he put Carrie at her ease, and by his deference 
 and pleasantries he amused her. He pretended to be 
 Beriously interested in all she said. 
 
 " I don't know how to play," said Carrie. 
 
 " Charlie, you are neglecting a part of your duty," he 
 observed to Drouet most affably. " Between us, though," 
 he went on, " we can show you." 
 
 By his tact he made Drouet feel that he admired his 
 choice. There was something in his manner that showed 
 that he was pleased to be there. Drouet felt really closer 
 to him than ever before. It gave him more respect for 
 Carrie. Her appearance came into a new light, under 
 Hurstwood's appreciation. The situation livened con- 
 siderably. 
 
 " Now, let me see," said Hurstwood, looking over Car- 
 rie's shoulder very deferentially. "What have you?" 
 He studied for a moment. " That's rather good," he 
 said. 
 
 " You're lucky. Now, I'll show you how to trounce 
 your husband. You take my advice." 
 
 " Here," said Drouet, " if you two are going to scheme 
 together, I won't stand a ghost of a show. Hurstwood's 
 a regular sharp." 
 
 " No, it's your wife. She brings me luck. Why 
 houldn't she win? " 
 
 Carrie looked gratefully at Hurstwood, and smiled at 
 Drouet. The former took the air of a mere friend. H
 
 SISTER CARRIE 109 
 
 was simply there to enjoy himself. Anything that Carrie 
 did was pleasing to him, nothing more. 
 
 " There," he said, holding back one of his own good 
 cards, and giving Carrie a chance to take a trick. " I 
 count that clever playing for a beginner." 
 
 The latter laughed gleefully as she saw the hand coming 
 her way. It was as if she were invincible when Hurst- 
 wood helped her. 
 
 He did not look at her often. When he did, it was 
 with a mild light in his eye. Not a shade was there of 
 anything save geniality and kindness. He took back the 
 shifty, clever gleam, and replaced it with one of innocence. 
 Carrie could not guess but that it was pleasure with him 
 in the immediate thing. She felt that he considered she 
 was doing a great deal. 
 
 " It's unfair to let such playing go without earning 
 something," he said after a time, slipping his finger into 
 the little coin pocket of his coat. " Let's play for dimes." 
 
 " All right," said Drouet, fishing for bills. 
 
 Hurstwood was quicker. His fingers were full of new 
 ten-cent pieces. " Here we are," he said, supplying each 
 one with a little stack. 
 
 " Oh, this is gambling," smiled Carrie. " It's bad." 
 
 " No," said Drouet, " only fun. If you never play for 
 more than that, you will go to Heaven." 
 
 " Don't you moralise," said Hurstwood to Carrie 
 gently, " until you see what becomes of the money." 
 
 Drouet smiled. 
 
 " If your husband gets them, he'll tell you how bad 
 it is." 
 
 Drouet laughed loud. 
 
 There was such an ingratiating tone about Hurstwood's 
 voice, the insinuation was so perceptible that even Carrie 
 got the humour of it. 
 
 " When do you leave? " said Hurstwood to Drouet
 
 1 10 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 " On Wednesday," he replied. 
 
 " It's rather hard to have your husband running about 
 like that, isn't it? " said Hurstwood, addressing Carrie. 
 
 " She's going along with me this time," said Drouet. 
 
 " You must both go with me to the theatre before you 
 go." 
 
 "Certainly," said Drouet. "Eh, Carrie?" 
 
 " I'd like it ever so much," she replied. 
 
 Hurstwood did his best to see that Carrie won the 
 money. Pie rejoiced in her success, kept counting her 
 winnings, and finally gathered and put them in her ex- 
 tended hand. They spread a little lunch, at which he 
 served the wine, and afterwards he used fine tact in going. 
 
 " Now," he said, addressing first Carrie and then 
 Drouet with his eyes, " you must be ready at 7.30. I'll 
 come and get you." 
 
 They went with him to the door and there was his cab 
 waiting, its red lamps gleaming cheerfully in the shadow. 
 
 " Now," he observed to Drouet, with a tone of good- 
 fellowship, " when you leave your wife alone, you must 
 let me show her around a little. It will break up her 
 loneliness." 
 
 " Sure," said Drouet, quite pleased at the attention 
 shown. 
 
 " You're so kind," observed Carrie. 
 
 " Not at all," said Hurstwood, " I would want your 
 husband to do as much for me." 
 
 He smiled and went lightly away. Carrie was thor- 
 oughly impressed. She had never come in contact with 
 such grace. As for Drouet, he was equally pleased. 
 
 " There's a nice man," he remarked to Carrie, as they 
 returned to their cosey chamber. " A good friend of 
 mine, too." 
 
 " He seems to be," said Carrie.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 THE PERSUASION OF FASHION : FEELING GUARDS O'ER 
 ITS OWN 
 
 Carrie was an apt student of fortune's ways of for- 
 tune's superficialities. Seeing a thing, she would immedi- 
 ately set to inquiring how she would look, properly re- 
 lated to it. Be it known that this is not fine feeling, it is 
 not wisdom. The greatest minds are not so afflicted ; and, 
 on the contrary, the lowest order of mind is not so dis- 
 turbed. Fine clothes to her were a vast persuasion ; they 
 spoke tenderly and Jesuitically for themselves. When 
 she came within earshot of their pleading, desire in her 
 bent a willing ear. The voice of the so-called inanimate ! 
 Who shall translate for us the language of the stones? 
 
 " My dear," said the lace collar she secured from Par- 
 tridge's, " I fit you beautifully ; don't give me up." 
 
 " Ah, such little feet," said the leather of the soft new 
 shoes ; " how effectively I cover them. What a pity they 
 should ever want my aid." 
 
 Once these things were in her hand, on her person, 
 she might dream of giving them up ; the method by which 
 they came might intrude itself so forcibly that she would 
 ache to be rid of the thought of it, but she would not give 
 them up. " Put on the old clothes that torn pair oi 
 shoes," was called to her by her conscience in vain. She 
 could possibly have conquered the fear of hunger and 
 gone back ; the thought of hard work and a narrow round 
 of suffering would, under the last pressure of conscience.
 
 U2 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 ] 
 
 have yielded, but spoil her appearance? be old-clothed 
 ajid poor-appearing ? never ! 
 
 Drouet heightened her opinion on this and allied sub- 
 jects in such a manner as to weaken her power of resist- 
 ing their influence. It is so easy to do this when the 
 thing opined is in the line of what we desire. In his 
 hearty way, he insisted upon her good looks. He looked 
 at her admiringly, and she took it at its full value. Under 
 the circumstances, she did not need to carry herself as 
 pretty women do. She picked that knowledge up fast 
 enough for herself. Drouet had a habit, characteristic 
 of his kind, of looking after stylishly dressed or pretty 
 women on the street and remarking upon them. He had 
 just enough of the feminine love of dress to be a good 
 judge not of intellect, but of clothes. He saw how they 
 set their little feet, how they carried their chins, with what 
 grace and sinuosity they swung their bodies. A dainty, 
 self-conscious swaying of the hips by a woman was to 
 him as alluring as the glint of rare wine to a toper. He 
 would turn and follow the disappearing vision with his 
 eyes. He would thrill as a child with the unhindered 
 passion that was in him. He loved the thing that women 
 love in themselves, grace. At this, their own shrine, he 
 knelt with them, an ardent devotee. 
 
 " Did you see that woman who went by just now? " he 
 said to Carrie on the first day they took a walk together. 
 " Fine stepper, wasn't she ? " 
 
 Carrie looked, and observed the grace commended. 
 
 " Yes, she is," she returned, cheerfully, a little sugges- 
 tion of possible defect in herself awakening in her mind. 
 If that was so fine, she must look at it more closely. In- 
 stinctively, she felt a desire to imitate it. Surely she could 
 do that too. 
 
 When one of her mind sees many things emphasized 
 and reemphasized and admired, she gathers the logic
 
 SISTER CARRIE 113 
 
 of it and applies accordingly. Drouet was not shrewd 
 enough to see that this was not tactful. He could not see 
 that it would be better to make her feel that she was com- 
 peting with herself, not others better than herself. He 
 would not have done it with an older, wiser woman, but 
 in Carrie he saw only the novice. Less clever than she, 
 he was naturally unable to comprehend her sensibility. 
 He went on educating and wounding her, a thing rather 
 foolish in one whose admiration for his pupil and victim 
 was apt to grow. 
 
 Carrie took the instructions affably. She saw what 
 Drouet liked ; in a vague way she saw where he was weak. 
 It lessens a woman's opinion of a man when she learns that 
 his admiration is so pointedly and generously distributed. 
 She sees but one object of supreme compliment in this 
 world, and that is herself. If a man is to succeed with 
 many women, he must be all in all to each. 
 
 In her own apartments Carrie saw things which were^ 
 lessons in the same school. 
 
 In the same house with her lived an official of one of the 
 theatres, Mr. Frank A. Hale, manager of the Standard, 
 and his wife, a pleasing-looking brunette of thirty-five. 
 They were people of a sort very common in America to- 
 day, who live respectably from hand to mouth. Hale re- 
 ceived a salary of forty-five dollars a week. His wife, 
 quite attractive, affected the feeling of youth, and objected 
 to that sort of home life which means the care of a house 
 and the raising of a family. Like Drouet and Carrie, they 
 also occupied three rooms on the floor above. 
 
 Not long after she arrived Mrs. Hale established social 
 relations with her, and together they went about. For a 
 long time this was her only companionship, and the gossip 
 of the manager's wife formed the medium through which 
 she saw the world. Such trivialities, such praises of 
 wealth, such conventional expression of morals as sifted
 
 j I 4 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 through this passive creature's mind, fell upon Carrie and 
 for the while confused her. 
 
 )n the other hand, her own feelings were a corrective 
 influence. The constant drag to something better was 
 not to be denied. By those things which address the 
 heart was she steadily recalled. In the apartments 
 across the hall were a young girl and her mother. They 
 were from Evansville, Indiana, the wife and daughter 
 of a railroad treasurer. The daughter was here to study 
 music, the mother to keep her company. 
 
 Carrie did not make their acquaintance, but she saw 
 the daughter coming in and going out. A few times she 
 had seen her at the piano in the parlour, and not infre- 
 quently had heard her play. This young woman was par- 
 ticularly dressy for her station, and wore a jewelled ring 
 or two which flashed upon her white fingers as she played. 
 
 Now Carrie was affected by music. Her nervous com- 
 position responded to certain strains, much as certain 
 strings of a harp vibrate when a corresponding key of a 
 piano is struck. She was delicately moulded in sentiment, 
 and answered with vague ruminations to certain wistful 
 chords. They awoke longings for those things which 
 she did not have. They caused her to cling closer to 
 things she possessed. One short song the young 
 lady played in a most soulful and tender mood. Carrie 
 heard it through the open door from the parlour below. It 
 was at that hour between afternoon and night when, for 
 the idle, the wanderer, things are apt to take on a wistful 
 aspect. The mind wanders forth on far journeys and re- 
 turns with sheaves of withered and departed joys. Carrie 
 sat at her window looking out. Drouet had been away 
 since ten in the morning. She had amused herself with a 
 walk, a book by Bertha M. Clay which Drouet had left 
 there, though she did not wholly enjoy the latter, and by 
 changing her dress for the evening. Now she sat looking
 
 SISTER CARRIE 115 
 
 out across the park as wistful and depressed as the nature 
 which craves variety and life can be under such circum- 
 stances. As she contemplated her new state, the strain 
 from the parlour below stole upward. With it her 
 thoughts became coloured and enmeshed. She reverted 
 to the thing's which were best and saddest within the 
 small limit of her experience. She became for the moment 
 a repentant. 
 
 While she was in this mood Drouet came in, bringing 
 with him an entirely different atmosphere. It was dusk 
 and Carrie had neglected to light the lamp. The fire in 
 the grate, too, had burned low. 
 
 " Where are you, Cad ? " he said, using a pet name he 
 had given her. 
 
 " Here," she answered. 
 
 There was something delicate and lonely in her voice, 
 but he could not hear it. He had not the poetry in him 
 that would seek a woman out under such circumstances 
 and console her for the tragedy of life. Instead, he struck 
 a match and lighted the gas. 
 
 " Hello," he exclaimed, " you've been crying." 
 
 Her eyes were still wet with a few vague tears. 
 
 " Pshaw," he said, " you don't want to do that." 
 
 He took her hand, feeling in his good-natured egotism 
 that it was probably lack of his presence which had made 
 her lonely. 
 
 " Come on, now," he went on ; " it's all right. Let's 
 waltz a little to that music." 
 
 He could not have introduced a more incongruous 
 proposition. It made clear to Carrie that he could not 
 sympathise with her. Sh.e could not have framed 
 thoughts which would have expressed his defect or made 
 clear the difference between them, but she felt it. It was 
 his first great mistake. 
 
 What Drouet said about the girl's grace, as she tripped
 
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 out evenings accompanied by her mother, caused Carrie 
 to perceive the nature and value of those little modish 
 ways which women adopt when they would presume to be 
 something. She looked in the mirror and pursed up her 
 lips, accompanying it with a little toss of the head, as she 
 had seen the railroad treasurer's daughter do. She caught 
 up her skirts with an easy swing, for had not Drouet re- 
 marked that in her and several others, and Carrie was 
 naturally imitative. She began to get the hang of those 
 little things which the pretty woman who has vanity in- 
 variably adopts. In short, her knowledge of grace 
 doubled, and with it her appearance changed. She became 
 a girl of considerable taste. 
 
 Drouet noticed this. He saw the new bow in her hair 
 and the new way of arranging her locks which she affected 
 one morning. 
 
 " You look fine that way, Cad," he said. 
 
 " Do I ? " she replied, sweetly. It made her try for 
 other effects that selfsame day. 
 
 She used her feet less heavily, a thing that was brought 
 about by her attempting to imitate the treasurer's daugh- 
 ter's graceful carriage. How much influence the presence 
 of that young woman in the same house had upon her it 
 would be difficult to say. But, because of all these things, 
 when Hurstwood called he had found a young woman 
 who was much more than the Carrie to whom Drouet had 
 first spoken. The primary defects of dress and manner 
 had passed. She was pretty, graceful, rich in the timidity 
 born of uncertainty, and with a something childlike in her 
 large eyes which captured the fancy of this starched and 
 conventional poser among men. It was the ancient at- 
 traction of the fresh for the stale. If there was a touch of 
 appreciation left in him for the bloom and unsophistica- 
 tion which is the charm of youth, it rekindled now. He 
 looked into her pretty face and felt the subtle waves of
 
 SISTER CARRIE II 
 
 young life radiating therefrom. In that large clear eye 
 he could see nothing that his blase nature could under- 
 stand as guile. The little vanity, if he could have per- 
 ceived it there, would have touched him as a pleasant 
 thing. 
 
 " I wonder," he said, as he rode away in his cab, " how 
 Drouet came to win her." 
 
 He gave her credit for feelings superior to Drouet at 
 the first glance. 
 
 The cab plopped along between the far-receding lines 
 of gas lamps on either hand. He folded his gloved hands 
 and saw only the lighted chamber and Carrie's face. He 
 was pondering over the delight of youthful beauty. 
 
 " I'll have a bouquet for her," he thought. " Drouet 
 won't mind." 
 
 He never for a moment concealed the fact of her at- 
 traction for himself. He troubled himself not at all about 
 Drouet's priority. He was merely floating those gos- 
 samer threads of thought which, like the spider's, he 
 hoped would lay hold somewhere. He did not know, he 
 could not guess, what the result would be. 
 
 A few weeks later Drouet, in his peregrinations, en- 
 countered one of his well-dressed lady acquaintances in 
 Chicago on his return from a short trip to Omaha. He 
 had intended to hurry out to Ogden Place and surprise 
 Carrie, but now he fell into an interesting conversation 
 and soon modified his original intention. 
 
 " Let's go to dinner," he said, little recking any chancu 
 meeting which might trouble his way. 
 
 " Certainly," said his companion. 
 
 They visited one of the better restaurants for a social 
 chat. It was five in the afternoon when they met ; it wav 
 seven-thirty before the last bone was picked. 
 
 Drouet was just finishing a little incident he was re- 
 lating, and his face was expanding into a smile, when
 
 U8 5/5 TER CARRIE 
 
 Hurstwood's eye caught his own. The latter had come in 
 with several friends, and, seeing Drouet and some woman, 
 not Carrie, drew his own conclusion. 
 
 " Ah, the rascal," he thought, and then, with a touch of 
 righteous sympathy, " that's pretty hard on the little 
 girl." 
 
 Drouet jumped from one easy thought to another as 
 he caught Hurstwood's eye. He felt but very little mis- 
 giving, until he saw that Hurstwood was cautiously pre- 
 tending not to see. Then some of the latter's impression 
 forced itself upon him. He thought of Carrie and their 
 last meeting. By George, he would have to explain this to 
 Hurstwood. Such a chance half-hour with an old friend 
 must not have anything more attached to it than it really 
 warranted. 
 
 For the first time he was troubled. Here was a moral 
 complication of which he could not possibly get the ends. 
 Hurstwood would laugh at him for being a fickle boy. 
 He would laugh with Hurstwood. Carrie would never 
 hear, his present companion at table would never know, 
 and yet he could not help feeling that he was getting the 
 worst of it there was some faint stigma attached, and he 
 was not guilty. He broke up the dinner by becoming 
 dull, and saw his companion on her car. Then he went 
 home. 
 
 " He hasn't talked to me about any of these later 
 flames," thought Hurstwood to himself. " He thinks I 
 think he cares for the girl out there." 
 
 " He ought not to think I'm knocking around, since I 
 have just introduced him out there," thought Drouet. 
 
 " I saw you," Hurstwood said, genially, the next time 
 Drouet drifted in to his polished resort, from which he 
 could not stay away. He raised his forefinger indica- 
 tively, as parents do to children. 
 
 " An old acquaintance of mine that I ran into just as I
 
 SISTER CARRIE ng 
 
 was coming up from the station," explained Drouet. 
 " She used to be quite a beauty." 
 
 " Still attracts a little, eh ? " returned the other, affecting 
 to jest. 
 
 " Oh, no," said Drouet, " just couldn't escape her this 
 time." 
 
 " How long are you here ? " asked Hurstwood. 
 
 " Only a few days." 
 
 " You must bring the girl down and take dinner with 
 me," he said. " I'm afraid you keep her cooped up out 
 there. I'll get a box for Joe Jefferson." 
 
 " Not me," answered the drummer. " Sure I'll come." 
 
 This pleased Hurstwood immensely. He gave Drouet 
 no credit for any feelings toward Carrie whatever. He 
 envied him, and now, as he looked at the well-dressed, 
 jolly salesman, whom he so much liked, the gleam of the 
 rival glowed in his eye. He began to " size up " Drouet 
 from the standpoints of wit and fascination. He began to 
 look to see where he was weak. There was no disputing 
 that, whatever he might think of him as a good fellow, 
 he felt a certain amount of contempt for him as a lover. 
 He could hoodwink him all right. Why, if he would just 
 let Carrie see one such little incident as that of Thursday, 
 it would settle the matter. He ran on in thought, almost 
 exulting, the while he laughed and chatted, and Drouet 
 felt nothing. He had no power of analysing the glance 
 and the atmosphere of a man like Hurstwood. He stood 
 and smiled and accepted the invitation while his friend 
 examined him with the eye of a hawk. 
 
 The object of this peculiarly involved comedy was not 
 thinking of either. She was busy adjusting her thoughts 
 and feelings to newer conditions, and was not in danger 
 of suffering disturbing pangs from either quarter. 
 
 One evening Drouet found her dressing herself before 
 the glass.
 
 120 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 *' Cad," said he, catching her, " I believe you're getting 
 yain." 
 
 " Nothing of the kind," she returned, smiling. 
 
 " Well, you're mighty pretty," he went on, slipping his 
 arm around her. " Put on that navy-blue dress of yours 
 and I'll take you to the show." 
 
 " Oh, I've promised Mrs. Hale to go with her to the 
 Exposition to-night," she returned, apologetically. 
 
 " You did, eh ? " he said, studying the situation ab- 
 stractedly. " I wouldn't care to go to that myself." 
 
 " Well, I don't know," answered Carrie, puzzling, but 
 not offering to break her promise in his favour. 
 
 Just then a knock came at their door and the maid- 
 servant handed a letter in. 
 
 " He says there's an answer expected," she explained. 
 
 " It's from Hurstwood," said Drouet, noting the super- 
 scription as he tore it open. 
 
 " You are to come down and see Joe Jefferson with me 
 to-night," it ran in part. " It's my turn, as we agreed the 
 other day. All other bets are off." 
 
 " Well, what do you say to tfiis? " asked Drouet, in- 
 nocently, while Carrie's mind bubbled with favourable 
 'replies. 
 
 " You had better decide, Charlie," she said, reservedly. 
 
 " I guess we had better go, if you can break that en- 
 gagement upstairs," said Drouet. 
 
 " Oh, I can," returned Carrie without thinking. 
 
 Drouet selected writing paper while Carrie went to 
 change her dress. She hardly explained to herself why 
 this latest invitation appealed to her most. 
 
 "Shall I wear my hair as I did yesterday?" she 
 asked, as she came out with several articles of apparel 
 pending. 
 
 " Sure," he returned, pleasantly. 
 
 She was relieved to see that he felt nothing. She did 

 
 SISTER CARRIE m 
 
 not credit her willingness to go to any fascination Hurst- 
 wood held for her. It seemed that the combination of 
 Hurstwood, Drouet, and herself was more agreeable 
 than anything else that had been suggested. She arrayed 
 herself most carefully and they started off, extending 
 excuses upstairs. 
 
 " I say," said Hurstwood, as they came up the theatre 
 lobby, " we are exceedingly charming this evening." 
 
 Carrie fluttered under his approving glance. 
 
 " Now, then," he said, leading the way up the foyer into 
 the theatre. 
 
 If ever there was dressiness it was here. It was the per- 
 sonification of the old term spick and span. 
 
 " Did you ever see Jefferson ? " he questioned, as he 
 leaned toward Carrie in the box. 
 
 " I never did," she returned. 
 
 " He's delightful, delightful," he went on, giving the 
 commonplace rendition of approval which such men 
 know. He sent Drouet after a programme, and then dis~ 
 coursed to Carrie concerning Jefferson as he had heard 
 of him. The former was pleased beyond expression, and 
 was really hypnotised by the environment, the trappings 
 of the box, the elegance of her companion. Several times 
 their eyes accidentally met, and then there poured into 
 hers such a flood of feeling as she had never before experi- 
 enced. She could not for the moment explain it, for in 
 the next glance or the next move of the hand there was 
 seeming indifference, mingled only with the kindest at- 
 tention. 
 
 Drouet shared in the conversation, but he was almost 
 dull in comparison. Hurstwood entertained them both, 
 and now it was driven into Carrie's mind that here was the 
 superior man. She instinctively felt that he was stronger 
 and higher, and yet withaJ so simple. By the end of the 
 third act she was sure that Drouet was only a kindly soul,
 
 122 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 but otherwise defective. He sank every moment in her 
 estimation by the strong comparison. 
 
 " I have had such a nice time," said Carrie, when it was 
 all over and they were coming out. 
 
 " Yes, indeed," added Drouet, who was not in the least 
 aware that a battle had been fought and his defences 
 weakened. He was like the Emperor of China, who sat 
 glorying in himself, unaware that his fairest provinces 
 were being wrested from him. 
 
 " Well, you have saved me a dreary evening," returned 
 Hurstwood. " Good-night." 
 
 He took Carrie's little hand, and a current of feeling 
 swept from one to the other. 
 
 " I'm so tired," said Carrie, leaning back in the car 
 when Drouet began to talk. 
 
 " Well, you rest a little while I smoke," he said, rising, 
 and then he foolishly went to the forward platform of the 
 car and left the game as it stood. 

 
 
 1? Ytj 
 
 CHAPTER Xui 
 
 li^iij rfiiw ft?rns o# rr/ > ij!r*ot? T*-'^ 7 .'"* t; ' f ' 3 ^"^ * 
 
 OF THE LAMPS OF THE MANSIONS: THE AMBASSADOBJ/ 
 
 PLEA 
 
 Mrs. Hurstwood was not aware of any of her hus- 
 band's moral defections, though she might readily have 
 suspected his tendencies, which she well understood. 
 She was a woman upon whose action under provocation 
 you could never count. Hurstwood, for one, had not the 
 slightest idea of what she would do under certain circum- 
 stances. He had never seen her thoroughly aroused. In 
 fact, she was not a woman who would fly into a passion. 
 She had too little faith in mankind not to know that they 
 were erring. She was too calculating to jeopardise any 
 advantage she might gain in the way of information by 
 fruitless clamour. Her wrath would never wreak itself 
 in one fell blow. She would wait and brood, studying 
 the details and adding to them until her power might be 
 commensurate with her desire for revenge. At the same 
 time, she would not delay to inflict any injury, big or little, 
 which would wound the object of her revenge and still 
 leave him uncertain as to the source of the evil. She was 
 a cold, self-centred woman, with many a thought of her 
 own which never found expression, not even by so much 
 as the glint of an eye. 
 
 Hurstwood felt some of this in her nature, though he 
 did not actually perceive it. He dwelt with her in peace 
 knd some satisfaction. He did not fear her in the least 
 there was no cause for it. She still took a faint pride 
 fa him, which was augmented by her desire to have her
 
 124 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 social integrity maintained. She was secretly somewhat 
 pleased by the fact that much of her husband's property 
 was in her name, a precaution which Hurstwood had 
 taken when his home interests were somewhat more allur- 
 ing than at present. His wife had not the slightest reason 
 to feel that anything would ever go amiss with their 
 household, and yet the shadows which run before gave 
 her a thought of the good of it now and then. She was in 
 a position to become refractory with considerable ad- 
 vantage, and Hurstwood conducted himself circumspectly 
 because he felt that he could not be sure of anything once 
 she became dissatisfied. 
 
 It so happened that on the night when Hurstwood, Car- 
 rie, and Drouet were in the box at McVickar's, George, 
 Jr., was in the sixth row of the parquet with the daughter 
 of H. B. Carmichael, the third partner of a wholesale dry- 
 goods house of that city. Hurstwood did not see his son, 
 for he sat, as was his wont, as far back as possible, leaving 
 himself just partially visible, when he bent forward, to 
 those within the first six rows in question. It was his 
 wont to sit this way in every theatre to make his person- 
 ality as inconspicuous as possible where it would be no 
 advantage to him to have it otherwise. 
 
 He never moved but what, if there was any danger of 
 his conduct being misconstrued or ill-reported, he looked 
 carefully about him and counted the cost of every inch of 
 conspicuity. 
 
 The next morning at breakfast his son said : 
 
 " I saw you, Governor, last night." 
 
 " Were you at McVickar's ? " said Hurstwood, with the 
 best grace in the world. 
 
 " Yes," said young George. 
 
 "Who with?" 
 
 " Miss Carmichael." 
 
 Mrs. Hurstwood directed an inquiring glance at her
 
 SISTER CARRIE 125 
 
 husband, but could not judge from his appearance 
 whether it was any more than a casual look into the 
 theatre which was referred to. 
 
 " How was the play ? " she inquired. 
 
 " Very good," returned Hurstwood, " only it's the 
 same old thing, ' Rip Van Winkle.' " 
 
 " Whom did you go with ? " queried his wife, with as- 
 sumed indifference. 
 
 " Charlie Drouet and his wife. They are friends of 
 Moy's, visiting here." 
 
 Owing to the peculiar nature of his position, such a dis- 
 closure as this would ordinarily create no difficulty. His 
 wife took it for granted that his situation called for certain 
 social movements in which she might not be included. 
 But of late he had pleaded office duty on several occasions 
 when his wife asked for his company to any evening en- 
 tertainment. He had done so in regard to the very even- 
 ing in question only the morning before. 
 
 " I thought you were going to be busy," she remarked, 
 very carefully. 
 
 " So I was," he exclaimed. " I couldn't help the inter- 
 ruption, but I made up for it afterward by working until 
 two." 
 
 This settled the discussion for the time being, but 
 there was a residue of opinion which was not satisfactory. 
 There was no time at which the claims of his wife could 
 have been more unsatisfactorily pushed. For years he 
 had been steadily modifying his matrimonial devotion, 
 and found her company dull. Now that a new light shone 
 upon the horizon, this older luminary paled in the west. 
 He was satisfied to turn his face away entirely, and any 
 call to look back was irksome. 
 
 She, on the contrary, was not at all inclined to accept 
 anything less than a complete fulfilment of the letter of 
 their relationship, though the spirit might be wanting.
 
 126 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 " We are coming down town this afternoon," she re- 
 marked, a few days later. " I want you to come over to 
 Kinsley's and meet Mr. Phillips and his wife. They're 
 stopping at the Tremont, and we're going to show them 
 around a little." 
 
 After the occurrence of Wednesday, he could not re- 
 fuse, though the Phillips were about as uninteresting as 
 vanity and ignorance could make them. He agreed, but 
 it was with short grace. He was angry when he left the 
 house. 
 
 " I'll put a stop to this," he thought. " I'm not going to 
 be bothered fooling around with visitors when I have 
 work to do." 
 
 Not long after this Mrs. Hurstwood came with a sim- 
 ilar proposition, only it was to a matinee this time. 
 
 " My dear," he returned, " I haven't time. I'm too 
 busy." 
 
 " You find time to go with other people, though," she 
 replied, with considerable irritation. 
 
 " Nothing of the kind," he answered. " I can't avoid 
 business relations, and that's all there is to it." 
 
 " Well, never mind," she exclaimed. Her lips tightened. 
 The feeling of mutual antagonism was increased. 
 
 On the other hand, his interest in Drouet's little shop- 
 girl grew in an almost evenly balanced proportion. That 
 young lady, under the stress of her situation and the tute- 
 lage of her new friend, changed effectively. She had the 
 aptitude of the struggler who seeks emancipation. The 
 glow of a more showy life was not lost upon her. She did 
 not grow in knowledge so much as she awakened in the 
 matter of desire. Mrs. Hale's extended harangues upon 
 the subjects of wealth and position taught her to distin- 
 guish between degrees of wealth. 
 
 Mrs. Hale loved to drive in the afternoon in the sun 
 when it was fine, and to satisfy her soul with a sight of
 
 SISTER CARRIE 127 
 
 those mansions and lawns which she could not afford. 
 On the North Side had been erected a number of eleganl 
 mansions along- what is now known as the North Shore 
 Drive. The present lake wall of stone and granitoid was 
 not then in place, but the road had been well laid out, the 
 intermediate spaces of lawn were lovely to look upon, and 
 the houses were thoroughly new and imposing. When 
 the winter season had passed and the first fine days of the 
 early spring appeared, Mrs. Hale secured a buggy for 
 an afternoon and invited Carrie. They rode first through 
 Lincoln Park and on far out towards Evanston, turning 
 back at four and arriving at the north end of the Shore 
 Drive at about five o'clock. At this time of year the 
 days are still comparatively short, and the shadows of the 
 evening were beginning to settle down upon the great 
 city. Lamps were beginning to burn with that mellow 
 radiance which seems almost watery and translucent to 
 the eye. There was a softness in the air which speaks 
 with an infinite delicacy of feeling to the flesh as well as 
 to the soul. Carrie felt that it was a lovely day. She was 
 ripened by it in spirit for many suggestions. As they 
 drove along the smooth pavement an occasional carriage 
 passed. She saw one stop and the footman dismount, 
 opening the door for a gentleman who seemed to be 
 leisurely returning from some afternoon pleasure. 
 Across the broad lawns, now first freshening into green, 
 she saw lamps faintly glowing upon rich interiors. Now 
 it was but a chair, now a table, now an ornate corner, 
 which met her eye, but it appealed to her as almost noth- 
 ing else could. Such childish fancies as she had had 
 of fairy palaces and kingly quarters now came back. She 
 imagined that across these richly carved entrance-ways, 
 where the globed and crystalled lamps shone upon pan- 
 elled doors set with stained and designed panes of glass, 
 was neither care nor unsatisfied desire. She was perfectly
 
 128 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 certain that here was happiness. If she could but stroll 
 up yon broad walk, cross that rich entrance-way, which 
 to her was of tke beauty of a jewel, and sweep in grace and 
 luxury to possession and command oh ! how quickly 
 would sadness flee; how, in an instant, would the heart- 
 ache end. She gazed and gazed, wondering, delighting, 
 longing, and all the while the siren voice of the unrestful 
 was whispering in her ear. 
 
 " If we could have such a home as that," said Mrs. 
 Hale sadly, " how delightful it would be." 
 
 " And yet they do say," said Carrie, " that no one is 
 ever happy." 
 
 She had heard so much of the canting philosophy of 
 the grapeless fox. 
 
 " I notice," said Mrs. Hale, " that they all try mighty 
 hard, though, to take their misery in a mansion." 
 
 When she came to her own rooms, Carrie saw their 
 comparative insignificance. She was not so dull but 
 that she could perceive they were but three small rooms in 
 A moderately well-furnished boarding-house. She was 
 not contrasting it now with what she had had, but what 
 she had so recently seen. The glow of the palatial doors 
 was still in her eye, the roll of cushioned carriages still 
 In her ears. What, after all, was Drouet ? What was she ? 
 A-t her window, she thought it over, rocking to and fro, 
 and gazing out across the lamp-lit park toward the lamp- 
 lit houses on Warren and Ashland avenues. She was too 
 wrought up to care to go down to eat, too pensive to do 
 aught but rock and sing. Some old tunes crept to her 
 lips, and, as she sang them, her heart sank. She longed 
 and longed and longed. It was now for the old cottage 
 room in Columbia City, now the mansion upon the Shore 
 Drire, now the fine dress of some lady, now the elegance 
 of some scene. She was sad beyond measure, and yet un- 
 certain, wishing, fancying. Finally, it seemed as if all her
 
 SISTER CARRIE 129 
 
 state was one of loneliness and forsakenness, and she 
 could scarce refrain from trembling at the lip. She 
 hummed and hummed as the moments went by, sitting 
 in the shadow by the window, and was therein as happy, 
 though she did not perceive it, as she ever would be. 
 
 While Carrie was still in this frame of mind, the house- 
 servant brought up the intelligence that Mr. Hurstwood 
 was in the parlour asking to see Mr. and Mrs. Drouet. 
 
 " I guess he doesn't know that Charlie is out of town," 
 thought Carrie. 
 
 She had seen comparatively little of the manager during 
 the winter, but had been kept constantly in mind of him by 
 one thing and another, principally by the strong impres- 
 sion he had made. She was quite disturbed for the mo- 
 ment as to her appearance, but soon satisfied herself by 
 the aid of the mirror, and went below. 
 
 Hurstwood was in his best form, as usual. He hadn't 
 heard that Drouet was out of town. He was but slightly 
 affected by the intelligence, and devoted himself to the 
 more general topics which would interest Carrie. It was 
 surprising the ease with which he conducted a conver- 
 sation. He was like every man who has had the ad- 
 vantage of practice and knows he has sympathy. He 
 knew that Carrie listened to him pleasurably, and, without 
 the least effort, he fell into a train of observation which ab- 
 sorbed her fancy. He drew up his chair and modulated 
 his voice to such a degree that what he said seemed 
 wholly confidential. He confined himself almost ex- 
 clusively to his observation of men and pleasures. He 
 had been here and there, he had seen this and that. 
 Somehow he made Carrie wish to see similar things, 
 and all the while kept her aware of himself. She could not 
 shut out the consciousness of his individuality and pres- 
 ence for a moment. He would raise his eyes slowly in 
 smiling emphasis of something, and she was fixed bj
 
 130 
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 their magnetism. He would draw out, with the easiest 
 grace, her approval. Once he touched her hand for em- 
 phasis and she only smiled. He seemed to radiate an 
 atmosphere which suffused her being. He was never dull 
 for a minute, and seemed to make her clever. At least, 
 she brightened under his influence until all her best side 
 was exhibited. She felt that she was more clever with him 
 than with others. At least, he seemed to find so much in 
 her to applaud. There was not the slightest touch of 
 patronage. Drouet was full of it. 
 
 There had been something so personal, so subtle, in 
 each meeting between them, both when Drouet was pres- 
 ent and when he was absent, that Carrie could not speak 
 of it without feeling a sense of difficulty. She was no 
 talker. She could never arrange her thoughts in fluent 
 order. It was always a matter of feeling with her, strong 
 and deep. Each time there had been no sentence of im- 
 portance which she could relate, and as for the glances and 
 sensations, what woman would reveal them ? Such things 
 had never been between her and Drouet. As a matter of 
 fact, they could never be. She had been dominated by 
 distress and the enthusiastic forces of relief which Drouet 
 represented at an opportune moment when she yielded to 
 him. Now she was persuaded by secret current feelings 
 which Drouet had never understood. Hurstwood's 
 glance was as effective as the spoken words of a lover, 
 and more. They called for no immediate decision, and 
 could not be answered. 
 
 People in general attach too much importance to 
 words. They are under the illusion that talking effects 
 great results. As a matter of fact, words are, as a rule, 
 the shallowest portion of all the argument. They but 
 dimly represent the great surging feelings and desires 
 which lie behind. When the distraction of the tongue is 
 removed, the heart listens.
 
 SISTER CARRIE 131 
 
 In this conversation she heard, instead of his words, 
 the voices of the things which he represented. How suave 
 was the counsel of his appearance ! How feelingly did his 
 superior state speak for itself ! The growing desire he felt 
 for her lay upon her spirit as a gentle hand. She did not 
 need to tremble at all, because it was invisible ; she did not 
 need to worry over what other people would say what 
 she herself would say because it had no tangibility. She 
 was being pleaded with, persuaded, led into denying old 
 rights and assuming new ones, and yet there were no 
 words to prove it. Such conversation as was indulged 
 in held the same relationship to the actual mental 
 enactments of the twain that the low music of th 
 orchestra does to the dramatic incident which it is 
 used to cover. 
 
 " Have you ever seen the houses along the Lake Shore 
 on the North Side ? " asked Hurstwood. 
 
 " Why, I was just over there this afternoon Mrs. Hale 
 and I. Aren't they beautiful ? " 
 
 " They're very fine," he answered. 
 
 " Oh, me," said Carrie, pensively. " I wish I could live 
 in such a place." 
 
 " You're not happy," said Hurstwood, slowly, after a 
 slight pause. 
 
 He had raised his eyes solemnly and was looking into 
 her own. He assumed that he had struck a deep chord. 
 Now was a slight chance to say a word in his own behalf. 
 He leaned over quietly and continued his steady gaze. 
 He felt the critical character of the period. She en- 
 deavoured to stir, but it was useless. The whole strength 
 of a man's na.ture was working. He had good cause to 
 urge him on. He looked and looked, and the longer the 
 situation lasted the more difficult it became. The little 
 shop-girl was getting into deep water. She was letting 
 her few supports float away from her.
 
 132 
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 " Oh," she said at last, " you mustn't look at me like 
 that" 
 
 " I can't help it," he answered. 
 
 She relaxed a little and let the situation endure, giving 
 him strength. 
 
 " You are not satisfied with life, are you ? " 
 
 " No," she answered, weakly. 
 
 He saw he was the master of the situation he felt it. 
 He reached over and touched her hand. 
 
 " You mustn't," she exclaimed, jumping up. 
 
 " I didn't intend to," he answered, easily. 
 
 She did not run away, as she might have done. She did 
 not terminate the interview, but he drifted off into a 
 frleasant field of thought with the readiest grace. Not 
 fang after he rose to go, and she felt that he was 
 in power. 
 
 " You mustn't feel bad," he said, kindly ; " things will 
 straighten out in the course of time." 
 
 She made no answer, because she could think of noth- 
 ing to say. 
 
 " We are good friends, aren't we ? " he said, extending 
 his. hand. 
 
 " Yes," she answered. 
 
 " Not a word, then, until I see you again." 
 
 He retained a hold on her hand. 
 
 " I can't promise," she said, doubtfully. 
 
 " You must be more generous than that," he said, in 
 fuch a simple way that she wsw touched. 
 
 " Let's not talk about it any more," she returned. 
 
 " All right," he said, brightening. 
 
 He went down the steps and into his cab. Carrie closed 
 the door and ascended into her room. She undid her 
 broad lace collar before the mirror and unfastened her 
 pretty alligator belt which she had recently bought. 
 
 "I'm getting terrible," she said., honestly affected by a
 
 SISTER CARRIE 133 
 
 feeling of trouble and shame. " I don't seem to do any- 
 thing right." 
 
 She unloosed her hair after a time, and let it hang in 
 loose brown waves. Her mind was going over the 
 events of the evening. 
 
 " I don't know," she murmured at last, " what I can 
 do." 
 
 " Well," said Hurstwood as he rode away, " she likes 
 me all right; that I know." 
 
 The aroused manager whistled merrily for a good four 
 miles to his office an old melody that he had not recalled 
 for fifteen years.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 HIS CREDENTIALS ACCEPTED: A BABEL OF TONGUES 
 
 It was not quite two days after the scene between Carrie 
 and Hurstwood in the Ogden Place parlour before he 
 again put in his appearance. He had been thinking 
 almost uninterruptedly of her. Her leniency had, in a 
 way, inflamed his regard. He felt that he must succeed 
 with her, and that speedily. 
 
 The reason for his interest, not to say fascination, was 
 deeper than mere desire. It was a flowering out of feel- 
 ings which had been withering in dry and almost barren 
 soil for many years. It is probable that Carrie repre- 
 sented a better order of woman than had ever attracted 
 him before. He had had no love affair since that which 
 culminated in his marriage, and since then time and the 
 world had taught him how raw and erroneous was his 
 original judgment. Whenever he thought of it, he told 
 himself that, if he had it to do over again, he would never 
 marry such a woman. At the same time, his experience 
 with women in general had lessened his respect for the 
 sex. He maintained a cynical attitude, well grounded on 
 numerous experiences. Such women as he had known 
 were of nearly one type, selfish, ignorant, flashy. The 
 wives of his friends were not inspiring to look upon. His 
 own wife had developed a cold, commonplace nature 
 which to him was anything but pleasing. What he knew 
 of that under-world where grovel the beast-men of society 
 (and he knew a great deal) had hardened his nature. He
 
 SISTER CARRIE 135 
 
 looked upon most women with suspicion a single eye 
 to the utility of beauty and dress. He followed them 
 with a keen, suggestive glance. At the same time, he was 
 not so dull but that a good woman commanded his respect. 
 Personally, he did not attempt to analyse the marvel of a 
 saintly woman. He would take off his hat, and would 
 silence the light-tongued and the vicious in her presence 
 much as the Irish keeper of a Bowery hall will humble 
 himself before a Sister of Mercy, and pay toll to charity 
 with a willing and reverent hand. But he would not think 
 much upon the question of why he did so. 
 
 A man in his situation who comes, after a long round of 
 worthless or hardening experiences, upon a young, un- 
 sophisticated, innocent soul, is apt either to hold aloof, 
 out of a sense of his own remoteness, or to draw near and 
 become fascinated and elated by his discovery. It is only 
 by a roundabout process that such men ever do draw near 
 such a girl. They have no method, no understanding of 
 how to ingratiate themselves in youthful favour, save 
 when they find virtue in the toils. If, unfortunately, the 
 fly has got caught in the net, the spider can come forth 
 and talk business upon its own terms. So when maiden- 
 hood has wandered into the moil of the city, when it is 
 brought within the circle of the " rounder " and the roue, 
 even though it be at the outermost rim, they can come 
 forth and use their alluring arts. 
 
 Hurstwood had gone, at Drouet's invitation, to meet 
 a new baggage of fine clothes and pretty features. He 
 entered, expecting to indulge in an evening of lightsome 
 frolic, and then lose track of the newcomer forever. In- 
 stead he found a woman whose youth and beauty at- 
 tracted him. In the mild light of Carrie's eye was nothing 
 of the calculation of the mistress. In the diffident manner 
 was nothing of the art of the courtesan. He saw at once 
 that a mistake had been made, that some difficult condi-
 
 I3 6 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 tions had pushed this troubled creature into his presence, 
 and his interest was enlisted. Here sympathy sprang to 
 the rescue, but it was not unmixed with selfishness. He 
 wanted to win Carrie because he thought her fate 
 mingled with his was better than if it were united with 
 Drouet's. He envied the drummer his conquest as he 
 had never envied any man in all the course of his 
 experience. 
 
 Carrie was certainly better than this man, as she was 
 superior, mentally, to Drouet. She came fresh from the 
 air of the village, the light of the country still in her eye. 
 Here was neither guile nor rapacity. There were slight 
 inherited traits of both in her, but they were rudimentary. 
 She was too full of wonder and desire to be greedy. She 
 still looked about her upon the great maze of the city 
 without understanding. Hurstwood felt the bloom and 
 the youth. He picked her as he would the fresh fruit of 
 ft tree. He felt as fresh in her presence as one who is 
 taken out of the flash of summer to the first cool breath of 
 spring. 
 
 Carrie, left alone since the scene in question, and hav' 
 ing no one with whom to counsel, had at first wandered 
 from one strange mental conclusion to another, until at 
 last, tired out, she gave it up. She owed something to 
 Drouet, she thought. It did not seem more than yester- 
 day that he had aided her when she was worried and dis- 
 tressed. She had the kindliest feelings for him in every 
 way. She gave him credit for his good looks, his gen- 
 erous feelings, and even, in fact, failed to recollect hii 
 egotism when he was absent; but she could not feel 
 any binding influence keeping her for him as against all 
 others. In fact, such a thought had never had any 
 grounding, even in Drouet's desires. 
 
 The truth is, that this goodly drummer carried the 
 doom of all enduring relationships in his own lightsome
 
 SISTER CARRIE I3 ; 
 
 manner and unstable fancy. He went merrily on, as- 
 sured that he was alluring all, that affection followed ten- 
 derly in his wake, that things would endure unchangingly 
 for his pleasure. When he missed some old face, or found 
 some door finally shut to him, it did not grieve him deeply. 
 He was too young, too successful. He would remain 
 thus young in spirit until he was dead. 
 
 As for Hurstwood, he was alive with thoughts and 
 feelings concerning Carrie. He had no definite plans re- 
 garding her, but he was determined to make her confess 
 an affection for him. He thought he saw in her drooping 
 eye, her unstable glance, her wavering manner, the symp- 
 toms of a budding passion. He wanted to stand near her 
 and make her lay her hand in his he wanted to find aut 
 what her next step would be what the next sign of feel- 
 ing for him would be. Such anxiety and enthusiasm 
 had not affected him for years. He was a youth again in 
 feeling a cavalier in action. 
 
 In his position opportunity for taking his evenings out 
 was excellent. He was a most faithful worker in general, 
 and a man who commanded the confidence of his em- 
 ployers in so far as the distribution of his time was con- 
 cerned. He could take such hours off as he chose, for it 
 was well known that he fulfilled his managerial duties 
 successfully, whatever time he might take. His grace, 
 tact, and ornate appearance gave the place an air which 
 was most essential, while at the same time his long ex- 
 perience made him a most excellent judge of its stock 
 necessities. Bartenders and assistants might come and 
 go, singly or in groups, but, so long as he was present, 
 the host of old-time customers would barely notice the 
 change. He gave the place the atmosphere to which they 
 were used. Consequently, he arranged his hours very 
 much to suit himself, taking now an afternoon, now an 
 evening, but invariably returning between eleven and
 
 138 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 twelve to witness the last hour or two of the day's busi- 
 ness and look after the closing details. 
 
 " You see that things are safe and all the employees 
 Are out when you go home, George," Moy had once re- 
 marked to him, and he never once, in all the period of his 
 long service, neglected to do this. Neither of the owners 
 had for years been in the resort after five in the afternoon, 
 And yet their manager as faithfully fulfilled this request 
 36 if they had been there regularly to observe. 
 
 On this Friday afternoon, scarcely two days after his 
 previous visit, he made up his mind to see Carrie. He 
 could not stay away longer. 
 
 " Evans," he said, addressing the head barkeeper, " if 
 any one calls, I will be back between four and five." 
 
 He hurried to Madison Street and boarded a horse-car, 
 which carried him to Ogden Place in half an hour. 
 
 Carrie had thought of going for a walk, and had put on 
 a light grey woollen dress with a jaunty double-breasted 
 jacket. She had out her hat and gloves, and was fasten- 
 ing a white lace tie about her throat when the housemaid 
 brought up the information that Mr. Hurstwood wished 
 to see her. 
 
 She started slightly at the announcement, but told the 
 girl to say that she would come down in a moment, and 
 proceeded to hasten her dressing. 
 
 Carrie could not have told herself at this moment 
 whether she was glad or sorry that the impressive man- 
 ager was awaiting her presence. She was slightly flurried 
 and tingling in the cheeks, but it was more nervousness 
 than either fear or favour. She did not try to conjecture 
 what the drift of the conversation would be. She only 
 felt that she must be careful, and that Hurstwood had an 
 indefinable fascination for her. Then she gave her tie its 
 last touch with her fingers and went below. 
 
 The deep-feeling manager was himself a little strained
 
 SISTER CARRIE 139 
 
 in the nerves by the thorough consciousness of his mis- 
 sion. He felt that he must make a strong play on this 
 occasion, but now that the hour was come, and he heard 
 Carrie's feet upon the stair, his nerve failed him. He sank 
 a little in determination, for he was not so sure, after all, 
 what her opinion might be. 
 
 When she entered the room, however, her appearance 
 gave him courage. She looked simple and charming 
 enough to strengthen the daring of any lover. Her ap- 
 parent nervousness dispelled his own. 
 
 " How are you ? " he said, easily. " I could not resist 
 the temptation to come out this afternoon, it was so 
 pleasant." 
 
 " Yes," said Carrie, halting before him, " I was just 
 preparing to go for a walk myself." 
 
 " Oh, were you ? " he said. " Supposing, then, you get 
 your hat and we both go ? " 
 
 They crossed the park and went west along Washing- 
 ton Boulevard, beautiful with its broad macadamised road, 
 and large frame houses set back from the sidewalks. It 
 was a street where many of the more prosperous residents 
 of the West Side lived, and Hurstwood could not help 
 feeling nervous over the publicity of it. They had gone 
 but a few blocks when a livery stable sign in one of 
 the side streets solved the difficulty for him. He would 
 take her to drive along the new Boulevard. 
 
 The Boulevard at that time was little more than a 
 country road. The part he intended showing her was 
 much farther out on this same West Side, where there 
 was scarcely a house. It connected Douglas Park with 
 Washington or South Park, and was nothing more than 
 a neatly made road, running due south for some five miles 
 over an open, grassy prairie, and then due east over the 
 same kind of prairie for the same distance. There was 
 not a house to be encountered anywhere along the larger
 
 I40 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 part of the route, and any conversation would be pleas- 
 antly free of interruption. 
 
 At the stable he picked a gentle horse, and they were 
 soon out of range of either public observation or hearing. 
 
 "Can you drive?" he said, after a time. 
 
 "I never tried," said Carrie. 
 
 He put the reins in her hand, and folded his arms. 
 
 "You see there's nothing to it much," he said, smil- 
 ingly. 
 
 "Not when you have a gentle horse," said Carrie. 
 
 "You can handle a horse as well as any one, after a 
 little practice," he added, encouragingly. 
 
 He had been looking for some time for a break in the 
 conversation when he could give it a serious turn. Once 
 or twice he had held his peace, hoping that in silence her 
 thoughts would take the colour of his own, but she had 
 lightly continued the subject. Presently, however, his 
 silence controlled the situation. The drift of his thoughts 
 began to tell. He gazed fixedly at nothing in particular, 
 as if he were thinking of something which concerned her 
 not at all. His thoughts, however, spoke for themselves. 
 She was very much aware that a climax was pending. 
 
 "Do you know," he said, "I have spent the happiest 
 evenings in years since I have known you?" 
 
 "Have you?" she said, with assumed airiness, but still 
 excited by the conviction which the tone of his voice 
 carried. 
 
 "I was going to tell you the other evening," he added, 
 "but somehow the opportunity slipped away." 
 
 Carrie was listening without attempting to reply. She 
 could think of nothing worth while to say. Despite all 
 the ideas concerning right which had troubled her vaguely 
 since she had last seen him, she was now influenced again 
 strongly in his favour. 
 
 "I came out here to-day," he went on, solemnly, "to
 
 SISTER CARRIE 141 
 
 tell you just how I feel to see if you wouldn't listen *> 
 me." 
 
 Hurstwood was something of a romanticist after Us 
 kind. He was capable of strong feelings often poetic 
 ones and under a stress of desire, such as the present, he 
 waxed eloquent. That is, his feelings and his voice were 
 coloured with that seeming repression and pathos which 
 is the essence of eloquence. 
 
 " You know," he said, putting his hand on her arm, 
 and keeping a strange silence while he formulated words, 
 " that I love you ? " 
 
 Carrie did not stir at the words. She was bound up com- 
 pletely in the man's atmosphere. He would have church- 
 like silence in order to express his feelings, and she kept 
 it. She did not move her eyes from the flat, open scene 
 before her. Hurstwood waited for a few moments, and 
 then repeated the words. 
 
 " You must not say that," she said, weakly. 
 
 Her words were not convincing at all. They were the 
 result of a feeble thought that something ought to be said. 
 He paid no attention to them whatever. 
 
 " Carrie," he said, using her first name with sympa- 
 thetic familiarity, " I want you to love me. You don't 
 know how much I need some one to waste a little affection 
 on me. I am practically alone. There is nothing in my 
 life that is pleasant or delightful. It's all work and worry 
 with people who are nothing to me." 
 
 As he said this, Hurstwood really imagined that his 
 state was pitiful. He had the ability to get off at a dis- 
 tance and view himself objectively of seeing what he 
 wanted to see in the things which made up his exist- 
 ence. Now, as he spoke, his voice trembled with that 
 peculiar vibration which is the result of tensity. It 
 went ringing home to his companion's heart. 
 
 'Why, I should think," she said, turning upon him
 
 142 
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 large eyes which were full of sympathy and feeling, " that 
 you would be very happy. You know so much of the 
 world." 
 
 " That is it," he said, his voice dropping to a soft minor, 
 " I know too much of the world." 
 
 It was an important thing to her to hear one so well- 
 positioned an-i powerful speaking in this manner. She 
 could not help feeling the strangeness of her situation. 
 How was it that, in so little a while, the narrow life of the 
 country had fallen from her as a garment, and the city, 
 with all its mystery, taken its place ? Here was this great- 
 est mystery, the man of money and affairs sitting beside 
 her, appealing to her. Behold, he had ease and comfort, 
 his strength was great, his position high, his clothing 
 rich, and yet he was appealing to her. She could formu- 
 late no thought which would be just and right. She 
 troubled herself no more upon the matter. She only 
 basked in the warmth of his feeling, which was as a 
 grateful blaze to one who is cold. Hurstwood glowed 
 with his own intensity, and the heat of his passion 
 was already melting the wax of his companion's 
 scruples. 
 
 " You think," he said, " I am happy ; that I ought not 
 to complain? If you were to meet all day with people 
 who care absolutely nothing about you, if you went day 
 after day to a place where there was nothing but show 
 and indifference, if there was not one person in all those 
 you knew to whom you could appeal for sympathy or talk 
 to with pleasure, perhaps you would be unhappy 
 too." 
 
 He was striking a chord now which found sympathetic 
 response in her own situation. She knew what it was to 
 meet with people who were indifferent, to walk alone amid 
 so many who cared absolutely nothing about you. Had 
 not she ? Was not she at this very moment quite alone ?
 
 SISTER CARRIE 143 
 
 Who was there among all whom she knew to whom she 
 could appeal for sympathy? Not one. She was left to 
 herself to brood and wonder. 
 
 " I could be content," went on Hurstwood, " if I had 
 you to love me. If I had you to go to ; you for a com- 
 panion. As it is, I simply move about from place to place 
 without any satisfaction. Time hangs heavily on my 
 hands. Before you came I did nothing but idle and drift 
 into anything that offered itself. Since you came well, 
 I've had you to think about." 
 
 The old illusion that here was some one who needed her 
 aid began to grow in Carrie's mind. She truly pitied this 
 sad, lonely figure. To think that all his fine state should 
 be so barren for want of her ; that he needed to make such 
 an appeal when she herself was lonely and without 
 anchor. Surely, this was too bad. 
 
 " I am not very bad," he said, apologetically, as if he 
 owed it to her to explain on this score. " You think, 
 probably, that I roam around, and get into all sorts of evil ? 
 I have been rather reckless, but I could easily come out of 
 that. I need you to draw me back, if my life ever amounts 
 to anything." 
 
 Carrie looked at him with the tenderness which virtue 
 ever feels in its hope of reclaiming vice. How could such 
 a man need reclaiming? His errors, what were they, 
 that she could correct? Small they must be, where all 
 was so fine. At worst, they were gilded affairs, and with 
 what leniency are gilded errors viewed. 
 
 He put himself in such a lonely light that she was deeply 
 moved. 
 
 " Is it that way ? " she mused. 
 
 He slipped his arm about ker waist, and she could not 
 find the heart to draw away. With his free hand he 
 seized upon her fingers. A breath of soft spring wind 
 went bounding over the road, rolling some brown twigs
 
 144 
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 of the previous autumn before it. The horse paced 
 leisurely on, unguided. 
 
 " Tell me," he said, softly, " that you love me." 
 
 Her eyes fell consciously. 
 
 " Own to it, dear," he said, feelingly; "you do, don't 
 you ? " 
 
 She made no answer, but he felt his victory. 
 
 " Tell me," he said, richly, drawing her so close that 
 their lips were near together. He pressed her hand 
 warmly, and then released it to touch her cheek. 
 
 " You do? " he said, pressing his lips to her own. 
 
 For answer, her lips replied. 
 
 " Now," he said, joyously, his fine eyes ablaze, " you're 
 my own girl, aren't you ? " 
 
 By way of further conclusion, her head lay softly upon 
 hi* shoulder.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 WITH EYES AND NOT SEEING : ONE INFLUENCE WANES 
 
 Carrie in her rooms that evening was in a fine glow, 
 physically and mentally. She was deeply rejoicing in her 
 affection for Hurstwood and his love, and looked forward 
 with fine fancy to their next meeting Sunday night. They 
 had agreed, without any feeling of enforced secrecy, that 
 she should come down town and meet him, though, after 
 all, the need of it was the cause. 
 
 Mrs. Hale, from her upper window, saw her come in. 
 
 " Um," she thought to herself, " she goes riding with 
 another man when her husband is out of the city. He 
 had better keep an eye on her." 
 
 The truth is that Mrs. Hale was not the only one who 
 had a thought on this score. The house-maid who had 
 welcomed Hurstwood had her opinion also. She had no 
 particular regard for Carrie, whom she took to be cold and 
 disagreeable. At the same time, she had a fancy for the 
 merry and easy-mannered Drouet, who threw her a pleas- 
 ant remark now and then, and in other ways extended her 
 the evidence of that regard which he had for all members 
 of the sex. Hurstwood was more reserved and critical in 
 his manner. He did not appeal to this bodiced function- 
 ary in the same pleasant way. She wondered that he came 
 so frequently, that Mrs. Drouet should go out with him 
 this afternoon when Mr. Drouet was absent. She gave 
 vent to her opinions in the kitchen where the cook was. 
 As a result, a hum of gossip was set going which moved
 
 ,46 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 about the house in that secret manner common to 
 gossip. 
 
 Carrie, now that she had yielded sufficiently to Hurst- 
 wood to confess her affection, no longer troubled about 
 her attitude towards him. Temporarily she gave little 
 thought to Drouet, thinking only of the dignity and grace 
 of her lover and of his consuming affection for her. On 
 the first evening, she did little but go over the details of 
 the afternoon. It was the first time her sympathies had 
 ever been thoroughly aroused, and they threw a new light 
 on her character. She had some power of initiative, latent 
 before, which now began to exert itself. She looked more 
 practically upon her state and began to see glimmerings 
 of a way out. Hurstwood seemed a drag in the direction 
 of honour. Her feelings were exceedingly creditable, in 
 that they constructed out of these recent developments 
 something which conquered freedom frora dishonour 
 She had no idea what Hurstwood's next word would be. 
 She only took his affection to be a fine thing, and ap- 
 pended better, more generous results accordingly. 
 
 As yet, Hurstwood had only a thought of pleasure with- 
 out responsibility. He did not feel that he was doing 
 anything to complicate his life. His position was secure, 
 his home-life, if not satisfactory, was at least undisturbed, 
 his personal liberty rather untrammelled. Carrie's love 
 represented only so much added pleasure. He would 
 enjoy this new gift over and above his ordinary allowance 
 of pleasure. He would be happy with her and his own 
 affairs would go on as they had, undisturbed. 
 
 On Sunday evening Carrie dined with him at a place he 
 had selected in East Adams Street, and thereafter they 
 took a cab to what was then a pleasant evening resort out 
 on Cottage Grove Avenue near 3Qth Street. In the proc- 
 ess of his declaration he soon realised that Carrie took hi* 
 love upon a higher basis than he had anticipated. She
 
 SISTER CARRIE 147 
 
 kept him at a distance in a rather earnest way, and sub- 
 mitted only to those tender tokens of affection which 
 better become the inexperienced lover. Hurstwood saw 
 that she was not to be possessed for the asking, and de- 
 ferred pressing his suit too warmly. 
 
 Since he feigned to believe in her married state he found 
 that he had to carry out the part. His triumph, he saw, 
 was still at a little distance. How far he could not guess. 
 
 They were returning to Ogde Place in the cab, when 
 he asked: 
 
 " When will I see you again? " 
 
 " I don't know," she answered, wondering herself. 
 
 " Why not come down to The Fair," he suggested, 
 " next Tuesday? " 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 " Not so soon," she answered. 
 
 " I'll tell you what I'll do," he added. " I'll w_rite you, 
 care of this West Side Post-office. 'Could you call next 
 Tuesday?" 
 
 Carrie assented. 
 
 The cab stopped one door out of the way according to 
 his call. 
 
 " Good-night," he whispered, as the cab rolled away. 
 
 Unfortunately for the smooth progression of this affair, 
 Drouet returned. Hurstwood was sitting in his imposing 
 JittTe~oflTce the next afternoon when he saw Drouet enter. 
 
 "Why, hello, Charles," he ealled affably; "back again?" 
 
 " Yes," smiled Drouet, approaching and looking in at 
 the door. 
 
 Hurstwood arose. 
 
 " Well," he said, looking the drummer over, " rosy as 
 ever, eh?" 
 
 They began talking of the people they knew and things 
 that had happened. 
 
 " Been homo yet? " finally asked Hurstwood.
 
 j 4 8 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 " No, I am going, though," said Drouet. 
 
 " I remembered the little girl out there," said Hurst- 
 wood, " and called once. Thought you wouldn't want 
 her left quite alone." 
 
 " Right you are," agreed Drouet. " How is she? " 
 
 " Very well," said Hurstwood. " Rather anxious about 
 you, though. You'd better go out now and cheer her 
 up." 
 
 " I will," said Drouet, smilingly. 
 
 " Like to have you both come down and go to the 
 show with me Wednesday," concluded Hurstwood at 
 parting. 
 
 " Thanks, old man," said his friend, " I'll see what the 
 |irl says and let you know." 
 
 They separated in the most cordial manner. 
 
 " There's a nice fellow," Drouet thought to himself as 
 he turned the corner towards Madison. 
 
 " Drouet is a good fellow," Hurstwood thought to him- 
 self as he went back into his office, " but he's no man for 
 Carrie." 
 
 The thought of the latter turned his mind into a most 
 pleasant vein, and he wondered how he would get ahead 
 of the drummer. 
 
 When Drouet entered Carrie's presence, he caught her 
 in his arms as usual, but she responded to his kiss with a 
 tremour of opposition. 
 
 " Well," he said, " I had a great trip." 
 
 " Did you? How did you come out with that La 
 Crosse man you were telling me about?" 
 
 " Oh, fine ; sold him a complete line. There was an- 
 other fellow there, representing Burnstein, a regular 
 hook-nosed sheeny, but he wasn't in it. I made him look 
 like nothing at all." 
 
 As he undid his collar and unfastened his studs, pre- 
 paratory to washing his face and changing his clothes, h*
 
 SISTER CARRIE 149 
 
 dilated upon his trip. Carrie could not help listening 
 with amusement to his animated descriptions. 
 
 " I tell you," he said, " I surprised the people at the 
 office. I've sold more goods this last quarter than any 
 other man of our house on the road. I sold three thou- 
 sand dollars' worth in La Crosse." 
 
 He plunged his face in a basin of water, and puffed and 
 blew as he rubbed his neck and ears with his hands, while 
 Carrie gazed upon him with mingled thoughts of recollec- 
 tion and present judgment. He was still wiping his face, 
 when he continued: 
 
 " I'm going to strike for a raise in June. They can 
 afford to pay it, as much business as I turn in. I'll get 
 it too, don't you forget." 
 
 " I hope you do," said Carrie. 
 
 " And then if that little real estate deal I've got on goes 
 through, we'll get married," he said with a great show of 
 earnestness, the while he took his place before the mirror 
 and began brushing his hair. 
 
 " I don't believe you ever intend to marry me, Charlie," 
 Carrie said ruefully. The recent protestations of Hurst- 
 wood had given her courage to say this. 
 
 " Oh, yes I do course I do what put that into your 
 head?" 
 
 He had stopped his trifling before the mirror now and 
 crossed over to her. For the first time Carrie felt as if 
 she must move away from him. 
 
 " But you've been saying that so long," she said, look- 
 ing with her pretty face upturned into his. 
 
 " Well, and I mean it too, but it takes money to live as 
 I want to. Now, when I get this increase, I can com? 
 pretty near fixing things all right, and I'll do it. Now, 
 don't you worry, girlie." 
 
 He patted her reassuringly upon the shoulder, but Car* 
 rie felt how really futile had been her hopes. She could
 
 ISO 
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 clearly see that this easy-going soul intended no move in 
 her behalf. He was simply letting things drift because 
 he preferred the free round of his present state to any legal 
 trammellings. 
 
 In contrast, Hurstwood appeared strong and sincere. 
 He had no easy manner of putting her off. He sympa- 
 thised with her and showed her what her true value was. 
 He needed her, while Drouet did not care. 
 
 " Oh, no," she said remorsefully, her tone reflecting 
 some of her own success and more of her helplessness, 
 " you never will." 
 
 " Well, you wait a little while and see," he concluded. 
 " I'll marry you all right." 
 
 Carrie looked at him and felt justified. She was look- 
 ing for something which would calm her conscience, and 
 here it was, a light, airy disregard of her claims upon his 
 justice. He had faithfully promised to marry her, and 
 this was the way he fulfilled his promise. 
 
 " Say," he said, after he had, as he thought, pleasantly 
 disposed of the marriage question, " I saw Hurstwood 
 to-day, and he wants us to go to the theatre with him." 
 
 Carrie started at the name, but recovered quickly 
 enough to avoid notice. 
 
 " When? " she asked, with assumed indifference. 
 
 " Wednesday. We'll go, won't we? " 
 
 " If you think so," she answered, her manner being so 
 .enforcedly reserved as to almost excite suspicion. Drouet 
 noticed something, but he thought it was due to her feel- 
 ings concerning their talk about marriage. 
 
 " He called once, he said." 
 
 " Yes," said Carrie, " he was out here Sunday evening." 
 
 " Was he? " said Drouet. " I thought from what he 
 said that he had called a week or so ago." 
 
 " So he did," answered Carrie, who was wholly unaware 
 of what conversation her lovers might have held. She
 
 SISTER CARRIE 151 
 
 was all at sea mentally, and fearful of some entanglement 
 which might ensue from what she would answer. 
 
 " Oh, then he called twice ? " said Drouet, the first 
 shade of misunderstanding showing in his face. 
 
 " Yes," said Carrie innocently, feeling now that Hurst- 
 wood must have mentioned but one call. 
 
 Drouet imagined that he must have misunderstood his 
 friend. He did not attach particular importance to the 
 information, after all. 
 
 " What did he have to say? " he queried, with slightly 
 increased curiosity. 
 
 "He said he came because he thought I might be 
 lonely. You hadn't been in there so long he wondered 
 what had become of you." 
 
 " George is a fine fellow," said Drouet, rather gratified 
 by his conception of the manager's interest. " Come on 
 and we'll go out to dinner." 
 
 When Hurstwood saw that Drouet was back he wrote 
 at once to Carrie, saying: 
 
 " I told him I called on you, dearest, when he was away. 
 I did not say how often, but he probably thought once. 
 Let me know of anything you may have said. Answer by 
 special messenger when you get this, and, darling, I must 
 see you. Let me know if you can't meet me at Jackson 
 and Throop Streets Wednesday afternoon at two o'clock. 
 I want to speak with you before we meet at the theatre." 
 
 Carrie received this Tuesday morning when she called 
 at the West Side branch of the post-office, and answered 
 at once. 
 
 " I said you called twice," she wrote. " He didn't seem 
 to mind. I will try and be at Throop Street if nothing 
 interferes. I seem to be getting very bad. It's wrong 
 to act as I do, I know." 
 
 Hurstwood, when he met her as agreed, reassured her 
 on this score.
 
 152 
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 " You mustn't worry, sweetheart," he said. " Just as 
 soon as he goes on the road again we will arrange some- 
 thing. We'll fix it so that you won't have to deceive any 
 one." 
 
 Carrie imagined that he would marry her at once, 
 though he had not directly said so, and her spirits rose. 
 She proposed to make the best of the situation until 
 Drouet left again. 
 
 " Don't show any more interest in me than you ever 
 have," Hurstwood counselled concerning the evening at 
 the theatre. 
 
 " You mustn't look at me steadily then," she answered, 
 mindful of the power of his eyes. 
 
 " I won't," he said, squeezing her hand at parting and 
 giving the glance she had just cautioned against. 
 
 " There," she said playfully, pointing a finger at him. 
 
 " The show hasn't begun yet," he returned. 
 
 He watched her walk from him with tender solicitation. 
 Such youth and prettiness reacted upon him more subtly 
 than wine. 
 
 At the theatre things passed as they had in Hurstwood's 
 favour. If he had been pleasing to Carrie before, how 
 much more so was he now. His grace was more per- 
 meating because it found a readier medium. Carrie 
 watched his every movement with pleasure. She almost 
 forgot poor Drouet, who babbled on as if he were the 
 host. 
 
 Hurstwood was too clever to give the slightest indica- 
 tion of a change. He paid, if anything, more attention to 
 his old friend than usual, and yet in no way held him up to 
 that subtle ridicule which a lover in favour may so se- 
 cretly practise before the mistress of his heart. If any- 
 thing, he felt the injustice of the game as it stood, and was 
 not cheap enough to add to it the slightest mental 
 taunt.
 
 SISTER CARRIE 153 
 
 Only the play produced an ironical situation, and this 
 was due to Drouet alone. 
 
 The scene was one in " The Covenant," in which the 
 wife listened to the seductive voice of a lover in the ab- 
 sence of her husband. 
 
 " Served him right," said Drouet afterward, even in 
 view of her keen expiation of her error. " I haven't any 
 pity for a man who would be such a chump as that." 
 
 " Well, you never can tell," returned Hurstwood gently. 
 " He probably thought he was right." 
 
 " Well, a man ought to be more attentive than that to 
 his wife if he wants to keep her." 
 
 They had come out of the lobby and made their way 
 through the showy crush about the entrance way. 
 
 "Say, mister," said a voice at Hurstwood's side, "would 
 you mind giving me the price of a bed? " 
 
 Hurstwood was interestedly remarking to Carrie. 
 
 " Honest to God, mister, I'm without a place to sleep." 
 
 The plea was that of a gaunt-faced man of about thirty, 
 who looked the picture of privation and wretchedness. 
 Drouet was the first to see. He handed over a dime with 
 an upwelling feeling of pity in his heart. Hurstwood 
 scarcely noticed the incident. Carrie quickly forgot.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 THE IRK OF THE OLD TIES : THE MAGIC OF YOUTH 
 
 The complete ignoring by Hurstwood of his own hom 
 ^ came with the growth of his affection for Carrie. His 
 actions, in all that related to his family, were of the most 
 perfunctory kind. He sat at breakfast with his wife and 
 children, absorbed in his own fancies, which reached far 
 without the realm of their interests. He read his paper, 
 which was heightened in interest by the shallowness of the 
 themes discussed by his son and daughter. Between him- 
 self and his wife ran a river of indifference. 
 
 Now that Carrie had come, he was in a fair way to be 
 blissful again. There was delight in going down town 
 evenings. When he walked forth in the short days, the 
 street lamps had a merry twinkle. He began to experience 
 the almost forgotten feeling which hastens the lover's feet. 
 When he looked at his fine clothes, he saw them with her 
 eyes and her eyes were young. 
 
 When in the flush of such feelings he heard his wife's 
 voice, when the insistent demands of matrimony recalled 
 him from dreams to a stale practice, how it grated. He 
 then knew that this was a chain which bound his feet. 
 
 " George," said Mrs. Hurstwood, in that tone of voice 
 which had long since come to be associated in his mind 
 with demands, " we want you to get us a season ticket to 
 the races." 
 
 " Do you want to go to all of them? " he said with a 
 rising inflection. 
 
 " Yes," she answered.
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 155 
 
 The races in question were soon to open at Washington 
 Park, on the South Side, and were considered quite so- 
 ciety affairs among those who did not affect religious 
 rectitude and conservatism. Mrs. Hurstwood had never 
 asked for a whole season ticket before, but this year cer- 
 tain considerations decided her to get a box. For one 
 thing, one of her neighbours, a certain Mr. and Mrs. Ram- 
 sey, who were possessors of money, made out of the coal 
 business, had done so. In the next place, her favourite 
 physician, Dr. Beale, a gentleman inclined to horses and 
 betting, had talked with her concerning his intention to 
 enter a two-year-old in the Derby. In the third place, 
 she wished to exhibit Jessica, who was gaining in ma- 
 turity and beauty, and whom she hoped to marry to a 
 man of means. Her own desire to be about in such 
 things and parade among her acquaintances and the com- 
 mon throng was as much an incentive as anything. 
 
 Hurstwood thought over the proposition a few mo- 
 ments without answering. They were in the sitting- 
 room on the second floor, waiting for supper. It was the 
 evening of his engagement with Carrie and Drouet to see 
 " The Covenant," which had brought him home to make 
 some alterations in his dress. 
 
 " You're sure separate tickets wouldn't do as well? " he 
 asked, hesitating to say anything more rugged. 
 
 " No," she replied impatiently. 
 
 " Well," he said, taking offence at her manner, " you 
 needn't get mad about it. I'm just asking you." 
 
 " I'm not mad," she snapped. " I'm merely asking you- 
 for a season ticket." 
 
 " And I'm telling you," he returned, fixing a clear, 
 steady eye on her, " that it's no easy thing to get. I'm 
 not sure whether the manager will give it to me." 
 
 He had been thinking all the time of his " pull " with 
 the race-track magnates.
 
 156 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 j " We can buy it then," she exclaimed sharply. 
 
 " You talk easy," he said. " A season family ticket 
 costs one hundred and fifty dollars." 
 
 " I'll not argue with you," she replied with deter- 
 mination. "I want the ticket and that's all there is 
 to it." 
 
 She had risen, and now walked angrily out of the room. 
 
 " Well, you get it then," he said grimly, though in a 
 modified tone of voice. 
 
 As usual, the table was one short that evening. 
 
 The next morning he had cooled down considerably, 
 and later the ticket was duly secured, though it did not 
 heal matters. He did not mind giving his family a fair 
 share of all that he earned, but he did not like to be 
 forced to provide against his will. 
 
 " Did you know, mother," said Jessica another day, 
 " the Spencers are getting ready to go away? " 
 
 " No. Where, I wonder? " 
 
 " Europe," said Jessica. " I met Georgine yesterday 
 and she told me. She just put on more airs about it." 
 
 " Did she say when? " 
 
 " Monday, I think. They'll get a notice in the papers 
 again they always do." 
 
 " Never mind," said Mrs. Hurstwood consolingly, 
 ' we'll go one of these days." 
 
 Hurstwood moved his eyes over the paper slowly, but 
 said nothing. 
 
 " ' We sail for Liverpool from New York,' " Jessica ex- 
 claimed, mocking her acquaintance. " ' Expect to spend 
 most of the " summah " in France,' vain thing. As if it 
 was anything to go to Europe." 
 
 " It must be if you envy her so much," put in Hurst- 
 wood. 
 
 It grated upon him to see the feeling his daughter dis- 
 s played.
 
 SISTER CARRIE 15^ 
 
 " Don't worry over them, my dear," said Mrs. Hurst- 
 wood. 
 
 " Did George get off? " asked Jessica of her mother 
 another day, thus revealing something that Hurstwood 
 had heard nothing about. 
 
 " Where has he gone ? " he asked, looking up. He 
 had never before been kept in ignorance concerning 
 departures. 
 
 " He was going to Wheaton," said Jessica, not noticing 
 the slight put upon her father. 
 
 "What's out there?" he asked, secretly irritated and 
 chagrined to think that he should be made to pump for 
 information in this manner. 
 
 " A tennis match," said Jessica. 
 
 " He didn't say anything to me," Hurstwood con- 
 cluded, finding it difficult to refrain from a bitter tone. 
 
 " I guess he must have forgotten," exclaimed his wife 
 blandly. 
 
 In the past he had always commanded a certain amount 
 of respect, which was a compound of appreciation and 
 awe. The familiarity which in part still existed between 
 himself and his daughter he had courted. As it was, it 
 .did not go beyond the light assumption of words. The 
 tone was always modest. Whatever had been, however, 
 had lacked affection, and now he saw that he was losing 
 track of their doings. His knowledge was no longer in- 
 timate. He sometimes saw them at table, and sometimes 
 did not. He heard of their doings occasionally, more 
 often not. Some days he found that he was all at sea as 
 to what they were talking about things they had ar- 
 ranged to do or that they had done in his absence. More 
 affecting was the feeling that there were little things going 
 on of which he no longer heard. Jessica was beginning 
 to feel that her affairs were her own. George, Jr., flour- 
 ished about as if he were a man entirely and must needs
 
 I5 8 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 have private matters. All this Hurstwood could see, and 
 it left a trace of feeling, for he was used to being con- 
 sidered in his official position, at least and felt that his 
 importance should not begin to wane here. To darken 
 it all, he saw the same indifference and independence 
 growing in his wife, while he looked on and paid the 
 bills. 
 
 He consoled himself with the thought, however, that, 
 after all, he was not without affection. Things might go 
 as they would at his house, but he had Carrie outside of 
 it. With his mind's eye he looked into her comfortable 
 room in Ogden Place, where he had spent several such 
 delightful evenings, and thought how charming it would 
 be when Drouet was disposed of entirely and she was 
 waiting evenings in cosey little quarters for him. That no 
 cause would come up whereby Drouet would be led to 
 inform Carrie concerning his married state, he felt hope- 
 ful. Things were going so smoothly that he believed 
 they would not change. Shortly now he would persuade 
 Carrie and all would be satisfactory. 
 
 The day after their theatre visit he began writing her 
 regularly a letter every morning, and begging her to do 
 as much for him. He was not literary by any means, but 
 experience of the world and his growing affection gave 
 him somewhat of a style. This he exercised at his office 
 desk with perfect deliberation. He purchased a box of 
 delicately coloured and scented writing paper in mono- 
 gram, which he kept locked in one of the drawers. His 
 friends now wondered at the cleric and very official-look- 
 ing nature of his position. The five bartenders viewed 
 with respect the duties which could call a man to do so 
 much desk-work and penmanship. 
 
 Hurstwood surprised himself with his fluency. By the 
 natural law which governs all effort, what he wrote reacted 
 upon him. He began to feel those subtleties which h
 
 SISTER CARRIE 159 
 
 could find words to express. With every expression came 
 increased conception. Those inmost breathings which 
 ther*; found words took hold upon him. He thought 
 Carrie worthy of all the affection he could there express. 
 
 Carrie was indeed worth loving if ever youth and grace 
 are to command that token of acknowledgment from life 
 in their bloom. Experience had not yet taken away that 
 freshness of the spirit which is the charm of the body. 
 Her soft eyes contained in their liquid lustre no sugges- 
 tion of the knowledge of disappointment. She had been 
 troubled in a way by doubt and longing, but these had 
 made no deeper impression than could be traced in a cer- 
 tain open wistfulness of glance and speech. The mouth 
 had the expression at times, in talking and in repose, of 
 one who might be upon the verge of tears. It was not 
 that grief was thus ever present. The pronunciation of 
 certain syllables gave to her lips this peculiarity of for- 
 mation a formation as suggestive and moving as pathos 
 itself. 
 
 There was nothing bold in her manner. Life had not 
 taught her domination superciliousness of grace, which 
 is the lordly power of some women. Her longing for 
 consideration was not sufficiently powerful to move her 
 to demand it. Even now she lacked self-assurance, but 
 there was that in what she had already experienced 
 which left her a little less than timid. She wanted pleas- 
 ure, she wanted position, and yet she was confused as to 
 what these things might be. Every hour the kaleido- 
 scope of human affairs threw a new lustre upon some- 
 thing, and therewith it became for her the desired the all. 
 Another shift of the box, and some other had become 
 the beautiful, the perfect. 
 
 On her spiritual side, also, she was rich in feeling, as 
 such a nature well might be. Sorrow in her was aroused 
 by many a spectacle an uncritical upwelling of grief for
 
 100 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 the weak and the helpless. She was constantly pained 
 by the sight of the white-faced, ragged men who slopped 
 desperately by her in a sort of wretched mental stupor. 
 The poorly clad girls who went blowing by her window 
 evenings, hurrying home from some of the shops of the 
 West Side, she pitied from the depths of her heart. She 
 would stand and bite her lips as they passed, shaking her 
 little head and wondering. They had so little, she 
 thought. It was so sad to be ragged and poor. The 
 hang of faded clothes pained her eyes. 
 
 " And they have to work so hard! " was her only com- 
 ment. 
 
 On the street sometimes she would see men working 
 Irishmen with picks, coal-heavers with great loads to shov- 
 el, Americans busy about some work which was a mere 
 matter of strength and they touched her fancy. Toil, now 
 that she was free of it, seemed even a more desolate thing 
 than when she was part of it. She saw it through a mist 
 of fancy a pale, sombre half-light, which was the essence 
 of poetic feeling. Her old father, in his flour-dusted mil- 
 ler's suit, sometimes returned to her in memory, revived 
 by a face in a window. A shoemaker pegging at his last, 
 a blastman seen through a narrow window in some base- 
 ment where iron was being melted, a bench-worker seen 
 high aloft in some window, his coat off, his sleeves rolled 
 up; these took her back in fancy to the details of the mill. 
 She felt, though she seldom expressed them, sad thoughts 
 upon this score. Her sympathies were ever with that 
 under- world of toil from which she had so recently sprung, 
 and which she best understood. 
 
 Though Hurstwood did not know it, he was dealing 
 with one whose feelings were as tender and as delicate as 
 this. He did not know, but it was this in her, after all, 
 which attracted him. He never attempted to analyse the 
 nature of his affection. It was sufficient that there was
 
 SISTER CARRIE l6l 
 
 tenderness in her eye, weakness in her manner, good" 
 nature and hope in her thoughts. He drew near this lily, 
 which had sucked its waxen beauty and perfume from be- 
 low a depth of waters which he had never penetrated, and 
 out of ooze and mould which he could not understand. He 
 drew near because it was waxen and fresh. It lightened 
 his feelings for him. It made the morning worth while 
 
 In a material way, she was considerably improved. 
 Her awkwardness had all but passed, leaving, if anything, 
 a quaint residue which was as pleasing as perfect grace. 
 Her little shoes now fitted her smartly and had high heels. 
 She had learned much about laces and those little neck- 
 pieces which add so much to a woman's appearance. Her 
 form had filled out until it was admirably plump and well- 
 rounded. 
 
 Hurstwood wrote her one morning, asking her to meet 
 him in Jefferson Park, Monroe Street. He did not con- 
 sider it policy to call any more, even when Drouet was at 
 home. 
 
 The next afternoon he was in the pretty little park by 
 one, and had found a rustic bench beneath the green 
 leaves of a lilac bush which bordered one of the paths. It 
 was at that season of the year when the fulness of spring 
 had not yet worn quite away. At a little pond near by 
 some cleanly dressed children were sailing white canvas 
 boats. In the shade of a green pagoda a bebuttoned 
 officer of the law was resting, his arms folded, his club at 
 rest in his belt. An old gardener was upon the lawn, 
 with a pair of pruning shears, looking after some bushes. 
 High overhead was the clear blue sky of the new summer, 
 and in the thickness of the shiny green leaves of the treei 
 hopped and twittered the busy sparrows. 
 
 Hurstwood had come out of his own home that morn- 
 ing feeling much of the same old annoyance. At his 
 store he had idled, there being no need to write. He had
 
 ,62 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 come away to this place with the lightness of heart which 
 characterises those who put weariness behind. Now, in 
 the shade of this cool, green bush, he looked about him 
 with the fancy of the lover. He heard the carts go lum- 
 bering by upon the neighbouring streets, but they were 
 far off, and only buzzed upon his ear. The hum of the 
 surrounding city was faint, the clang of an occasional beli 
 "was as music. He looked and dreamed a new dream of 
 pleasure which concerned his present fixed condition not 
 at all. He got back in fancy to the old Hurstwood, who 
 was neither married nor fixed in a solid position for life. 
 He remembered the light spirit in which he once looked 
 after the girls how he had danced, escorted them home, 
 hung over their gates. He almost wished he was back 
 there again here in this pleasant scene he felt as if he 
 were wholly free. 
 
 At two Carrie came tripping along the walk toward 
 him, rosy and clean. She had just recently donned a 
 sailor hat for the season with a band of pretty white-dotted 
 blue silk. Her skirt was of a rich blue material, and her 
 shirt waist matched it, with a thin stripe of blue upon a 
 snow-white ground stripes that were as fine as hairs. 
 Her brown shoes peeped occasionally from beneath her 
 skirt. She carried her gloves in her hand. 
 
 Hurstwood looked up at her with delight. 
 
 " You came, dearest," he said eagerly, standing to meet 
 her and taking her hand. 
 
 " Of course," she said, smiling; " did you think I 
 wouldn't?" 
 
 " I didn't know," he replied. 
 
 He looked at her forehead, which was moist from her 
 brisk walk. Then he took out one of his own soft, 
 scented silk handkerchiefs and touched her face here and 
 there. 
 
 " 'Now," he said affectionately, " you're all right."
 
 SISTER CARRIE 163 
 
 They were happy in being near one another in look- 
 ing into each other's eyes. Finally, when the long flush 
 of delight had subsided, he said: 
 
 " When is Charlie going away again?" 
 
 " I don't know," she answered. " He says h& has some 
 things to do for the house here now." 
 
 Hurstwood grew serious, and he lapsed into quiet 
 thought. He looked up after a time to say: 
 
 " Gome away and leave him." 
 
 He turned his eyes to the boys with the boats, as if the 
 request were of little importance. 
 
 " Where would we go? " she asked in much the same 
 manner, rolling her gloves, and looking into a neighbour- 
 ing tree. 
 
 " Where do you want to go ? " he enquired. 
 
 There was something in the tone in which he said this 
 which made her feel as if she must record her feelings 
 against any local habitation. 
 
 " We can'tstay in Chicago," she replied. 
 
 He had no thought that this was in her mind that any 
 removal would be suggested. 
 
 " Why not? " he asked softly. 
 
 " Oh, because," she said, " I wouldn't want to." 
 
 He listened to this with but dull perception of what it 
 meant. It had no serious ring to it. The question was 
 not up for immediate decision. 
 
 " I would have to give up my position," he said. 
 
 The tone he used made it seem as if the matter deserved 
 only slight consideration. Carrie thought a little, the 
 while enjoying the pretty scene. 
 
 " I wouldn't like to live in Chicago and him here," she 
 said, thinking of Drouet. 
 
 " It's a big town, dearest," Hurstwood answered. " It 
 would be as good as moving to another part of the country 
 to move to the South Side."
 
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 He had fixed upon that region as an objective point. 
 
 " Anyhow," said Carrie, " I shouldn't want to get mar- 
 ried as long as he is here. I wouldn't want to run away." 
 
 The suggestion of marriage struck Hurstwood forcibly. 
 He saw clearly that this was her idea he felt that it was 
 not to be gotten over easily. Bigamy lightened the hori- 
 zon of his shadowy thoughts for a moment. He won- 
 dered for the life of him how it would all come out. He 
 could not see that he was making any progress save in 
 her regard. When he looked at her now, he thought her 
 beautiful. What a thing it was to have her love him, even 
 if it be entangling! She increased in value in his eyes 
 because of her objection. She was something to struggle 
 for, and that was everything. How different from the 
 women who yielded willingly! He swept the thought of 
 them from his mind. 
 
 " And you don't know when he'll go away? " asked 
 Hurstwood, quietly. 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 He sighed. 
 
 " You're a determined little miss, aren't you? " he said, 
 after a few moments, looking up into her eyes. 
 
 She felt a wave of feeling sweep over her at this. It was 
 pride at what seemed his admiration affection for the 
 man who could feel this concerning her. 
 
 " No," she said coyly, " but what can I do? " 
 
 Again he folded his hands and looked away over the 
 lawn into the street. 
 
 " I wish," he said pathetically, " you would come to me. 
 I don't like to be away from you this way. What good 
 is there in waiting? You're not any happier, are 
 you ? " 
 
 "Happier!" she exclaimed softly, "you know Detter 
 ihan that." 
 
 " Here we are then," he went on in the same tone,
 
 SISTER CARRIE 165 
 
 "wasting our days. If you are not happy, do you think 
 I am ? I sit and write to you the biggest part of the time. 
 I'll tell you what, Carrie," he exclaimed, throwing sudden 
 ibrce of expression into his voice and fixing her with his 
 eyes, "I can 't live with,oiit you, and that's all there is to it. 
 Now," he concluded, showing the palm of one of his white 
 hands in a sort of at-an-end, helpless expression, "what 
 sjiall I do?" 
 
 This shifting of the burden to her appealed to Carrie. 
 The semblance of the load without the weight touched 
 the woman's heart. 
 
 "Can't you wait a little while yet?" she said tenderly. 
 "I'll try and find out when he's going." 
 
 "What good will it do?" he asked, holding the same 
 strain of feeling. 
 
 "Well, perhaps we can arrange to go somewhere." 
 
 She really did not see anything clearer than before, but 
 she was getting into that frame of mind where, out of 
 sympathy, a woman yields. 
 
 Hurstwood did not understand. He was wondering 
 how she was to be persuaded what appeal would move 
 her to forsake Drouet. He began to wonder how far her 
 affection for him would carry her. He was thinking of 
 some question which would make her tell. 
 
 Finally he hit upon one of those problematical propo* 
 sitions which often disguise our own desires while lead- 
 ing us to an understanding of the difficulties which others 
 make for us, and so discover for us a way. It had not the 
 slightest connection with anything intended on his part, 
 and was spoken at random before he had given it a mo- 
 ment's serious thought. 
 
 "Carrie," he said, looking into her face and assuming 
 a serious look which he did not feel, "suppose I were to 
 come to you next week, or this week for that matter to- 
 night say and tell yov T had^to_go away that I couldn't
 
 1 66 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 stay another minute and wasn't coming back any more 
 would you come with me? " 
 
 His sweetheart viewed him with the most affectionate 
 glance, her answer ready before the words were out of 
 his mouth. 
 
 " Yes," she said. 
 
 " You wouldn't stop to argue or arrange? " 
 
 " Not if you couldn't wait." 
 
 He smiled when he saw that she took him seriously, 
 and he thought what a chance it would afford for a pos- 
 sible junket of a week or two. He had a notion to tell 
 her that he was joking and so brush away her sweet seri- 
 ousness, but the effect of it was too delightful. He let it 
 stand. 
 
 " Suppose we didn't have time to get married here? " he 
 added, an afterthought striking him. 
 
 " If we got married as soon as we got to the other end 
 of the journey it would be all right." 
 
 " I meant that," he said. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 The morning seemed peculiarly bright to him now. 
 He wondered whatever could have put such a thought 
 into his head. Impossible as it was, he could not help 
 smiling at its cleverness. It showed how she loved him. 
 There was no doubt in his mind now, and he would find 
 a way to win her. 
 
 " Well," he said, jokingly, " I'll come and get you one 
 of these evenings," and then he laughed. 
 
 " I wouldn't stay with you, though, if you didn't marry 
 me," Carrie added reflectively. 
 
 " I don't want you to," he said tenderly, taking hei 
 hand. 
 
 She was extremely happy now that she understood. 
 She loved him the more for thinking that he would rescue 
 tier so. As for him, the marriage clause did not dwell in
 
 SISTER CARRIE 167 
 
 his mind. He was thinking that with such affection there 
 could be no bar to his eventual happiness. 
 
 " Let's stroll about," he said gayly, rising and surveying 
 all the lovely park. 
 
 " All right," said Carrie. 
 
 They passed the young Irishman, who looked after 
 them with envious eyes. 
 
 " 'Tis a foine couple," he observed to himself. " They 
 must be rich." 
 
 I
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 A WITLESS ALADDIN: THE GATE TO THE WORLD 
 
 In the course of his present stay in Chicago, Drouet paid 
 iome slight attention to the secret order to which he be- 
 longed. During his last trip he had received a new light 
 n its importance. 
 
 " I tell you," said another drummer to him, " it's a great 
 thing. Look at Hazenstab. He isn't so deuced clever. 
 Of course he's got a good house behind him, but that 
 won't do alone. I tell you it's his degree. He's a way-up 
 Mason, and that goes a long way. He's got a secret sign 
 that stands for something." 
 
 Drouet resolved then and there that he would take 
 more interest in such matters. So when he got back to 
 Chicago he repaired to his local lodge headquarters. 
 
 " I say, Drouet," said Mr. Harry Ouincel, an individual 
 who was very prominent in this local branch of the Elks, 
 " you're the man that can help us out." 
 
 It was after the business meeting and things were going 
 socially with a hum. Drouet was bobbing around chat- 
 ting and joking with a score of individuals whom he knew. 
 
 " What are you up to?" he inquired genially, turning 
 a smiling face upon his secret brother. 
 
 " We're trying to get up some theatricals for two weeks 
 from to-day, and we want to know if you don't know some 
 young lady who could take a part it's an easy part." 
 
 " Sure," said Drouet, " what is it? " He did not trouble 
 t* remember that he kn^w no one to whom he could
 
 SISTER CARRIE itx/ 
 
 appeal on this score. His innate good-nature, however, 
 dictated a favourable reply. 
 
 " Well, now, I'll tell you what we are trying to do," 
 went on Mr. Quincel. " We are trying to get a new set 
 of furniture for the lodge. There isn't enough money in 
 the treasury at the present time, and we thought we would 
 raise it by a little entertainment." 
 
 " Sure," interrupted Drouet, " that's a good idea." 
 
 " Several of the boys around here have got talent, 
 There's Harry Burbeck, he does a fine black-face turn. 
 Mac Lewis is all right at heavy dramatics. Did you ever 
 hear him recite ' Over the Hills ' ? " 
 
 " Never did." 
 
 " Well, I tell you, he does it fine." 
 
 " And you want me to get some woman to take a part? " 
 questioned Drouet, anxious to terminate the subject and 
 get on to something else. " What are you going to 
 play? " 
 
 " 'JJnder the Gaslight,' " said Mr. Quincel, mentioning 
 Augustin Daly's famous production, which had worn 
 from a great public success down to an amateur theatrical 
 favourite, with many of the troublesome accessories cut 
 out and the dramatis persona reduced to the smallest pos- 
 sible number. 
 
 Drouet had seen this play some time in the past. 
 
 " That's it," he said; " that's a fine play. It will go all 
 right. You ought to make a lot of money out of that." 
 
 " We think we'll do very well," Mr. Quincel replied. 
 w Don't you forget now," he concluded, Drouet showing 
 signs of restlessness ; " some young woman to take the 
 part of Laura." 
 
 " Sure, I'll attend to it." 
 
 He moved away, forgetting almost all about it the mo- 
 ment Mr. Quincel had ceased talking. He had not even 
 'hought to ask the time or place.
 
 1 7 Q SISTER CARRIE 
 
 Drouet was reminded of his promise a day or two later 
 by the receipt of a letter announcing that the first rehear- 
 sal was set for the following Friday evening, and urging 
 him to kindly forward the young lady's address at once, in 
 order that the part might be delivered to her. 
 
 " Now, who the deuce do I know? " asked the drum- 
 mer reflectively, scratching his rosy ear. " I don't 
 know any one that knows anything about amateur 
 theatricals." 
 
 He went over in memory the names of a number of 
 women he knew, and finally fixed on one, largely because 
 of the convenient location of her home on the West Side, 
 and promised himself that as he came out that evening he 
 would see her. When, however, he started west on the 
 car he forgot, and was only reminded of his delinquency 
 by an item in the " Evening News " a small three-line 
 affair under the head of Secret Society Notes which 
 stated the Custer Lodge of the Order of Elks would give 
 a theatrical performance in Avery Hall on the i6th, when 
 " Under the Gaslight " would be produced. 
 
 " George ! " exclaimed Drouet, " I forgot that." 
 
 " What? " inquired Carrie. 
 
 They were at their little table in the room which might 
 have been used for a kitchen, where Carrie occasionally 
 served a meal. To-night the fancy had caught her, anct 
 the little table was spread with a pleasing repast. 
 
 " Why, my lodge entertainment. They're going to give 
 a play, and they wanted me to get them some young lady 
 to take a part." 
 
 " What is it they're going to play? " 
 
 " ' Under the Gaslight.' " 
 
 "When?" 
 
 " On the i6th." 
 
 " Well, why don't you?" asked Carrie. 
 
 " I don't know any one," he replied.
 
 SISTER CARRIE I/I 
 
 Suddenly he looked up. 
 
 " Say," he said, " how would you like to take the part? " 
 
 " Me?" said Carrie. " I can't act." 
 
 " How do you know? " questioned Drouet reflectively 
 
 " Because," answered Carrie, " I never did." 
 
 Nevertheless, she was pleased to think he would ask 
 Her eyes brightened, for if there was anything that en- 
 listed her sympathies it was the art of the stage. 
 
 True to his nature, Drouet clung to this idea as an easy 
 way out. 
 
 " That's nothing. You can act all you have to down 
 there." 
 
 " No, I can't," said Carrie weakly, very much drawn 
 toward the proposition and yet fearful. 
 
 " Yes, you can. Now, why don't you do it? They 
 need some one, and it will be lots of fun for you." 
 
 " Oh, no, it won't," said Carrie seriously. 
 
 " You'd like that. I know you would. I've seen you 
 dancing around here and giving imitations and that's why 
 I asked you. You're clever enough, all right." 
 
 " No, I'm not," said Carrie shyly. 
 
 " 'Now, I'll tell you what you do. You go down and 
 see about it. It'll be fun for you. The rest of the com- 
 pany isn't going to be any good. They haven't any ex- 
 perience. What do they know about theatricals? " 
 
 He frowned as he thought of their ignorance. 
 
 " Hand me the coffee," he added. 
 
 " T don't believe I could act, Charlie," Carrie went on 
 pettishly. " You don't think I could, do you?" 
 
 " Sure. Out o' sight. I bet you make a hit. Now 
 you want to go, I know you do. I knew it when I came 
 home. That's why I asked you." 
 
 " What is the play, did you say? " 
 
 " ' Under the Gaslight.' " 
 
 " What part would they want me to take? "
 
 1 7 2 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 " Oh, one of the heroines I don't know." 
 
 " What sort of a play is it? " 
 
 " Well," said Drouet, whose memory for such things 
 was not the best, " it's about a girl who gets kidnapped 
 by a couple of crooks a man and a woman that live in 
 the slums. She had some money or something and they 
 wanted to get it. I don't know now how it did go 
 exactly." 
 
 " Don't you know what part I would have to take? " 
 
 " No, I don't, to tell the truth." He thought a mo- 
 ment. " Yes, I do, too. Laura, that's the thing you're 
 to be Laura." 
 
 " And you can't remember what the part is like? " 
 
 " To save me, Cad, I can't," he answered. " I ought 
 to, too; I've seen the play enough. There's a girl in it 
 that was stolen when she was an infant was picked off 
 the street or something and she's the one that's hounded 
 by the two old criminals I was telling you about." He 
 stopped with a mouthful of pie poised on a fork before 
 his face. " She comes very near getting drowned no, 
 that's not it. I'll tell you what I'll do," he concluded 
 hopelessly, " I'll get you the book. I can't remember 
 now for the life of me." 
 
 " Well, I don't know," said Carrie, when he had con- 
 cluded, her interest and desire to shine dramatically strug- 
 gling with her timidity for the mastery. " I might go if 
 you thought I'd do all right." 
 
 " Of course, you'll do," said Drouet, who, in his efforts 
 to enthuse Carrie, had interested himself. " Do you think 
 I'd come home here and urge you to do something that I 
 didn't think you would make a success of? You can act 
 all right. It'll be good for you." 
 
 " When must I go? " said Carrie, reflectively. 
 
 " The first rehearsal is Friday night. I'll get the part 
 for you to-night."
 
 SISTER CARRIE 173 
 
 " All right," said Carrie resignedly, " I'll do it, but if I 
 make a failure now it's your fault." 
 
 " You won't fail," assured Drouet. " Just, act as you 
 do around here. Be natural. You're all right. I've 
 often thought you'd make a corking good actress." 
 
 " Did you really? " asked Carrie. 
 
 " That's right," said the drummer. 
 
 He little knew as he went out of the door that night 
 what a secret flame he had kindled in the bosom of the 
 girl he left behind. Carrie was possessed of that sympa- 
 thetic, impressionable nature which, ever in the most 
 developed form, has been the glory of the drama. She 
 was created with that passivity of soul which is always the 
 mirror of the active world. She possessed an innate taste 
 for imitation and no small ability. Even without practice, 
 she could sometimes restore dramatic situations she had 
 witnessed by re-creating, before her mirror, the expres- 
 sions of the various faces taking part in the scene. She 
 loved to modulate her voice after the conventional man- 
 ner of the distressed heroine, and repeat such pathetic 
 fragments as appealed most to her sympathies. Qfjate, 
 seeing the airy grace of the ingenue in several well-con- 
 structed plays, she had been moved to secretly imitate it, 
 and many were the little movements and expressions of 
 the body in which she indulged from time to time in the 
 privacy of her chamber. On several occasions, when 
 Drouet had caught her admiring herself, as he imagined, 
 in the mirror, she was doing nothing more than recalling 
 some little grace of the mouth or the eyes which she had 
 witnessed in another. Under his airy accusation she mis- 
 took this for vanity and accepted the blame with a faint 
 sense of error, though, as a matter of fact, it was nothing 
 more than the first subtle outcroppings of an artistic na- 
 ture, endeavouring to re-create the perfect likeness of 
 some phase of beauty which appealed to her. In such
 
 174 
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 feeble tendencies, be it known, such outworking of desire 
 to reproduce life, lies the basis of all dramatic art. 
 
 low, when Carrie heard Drouet's laudatory opinion of 
 her dramatic ability, her body tingled with satisfaction. 
 Like the flame which welds the loosened particles into a 
 solid mass, his words united those floating wisps of feel- 
 ing which she had felt, but never believed, concerning her 
 possible ability, and made them into a gaudy shred of 
 ho^pe. Like all human beings, she had a touch of vanity. 
 She felt that she could do things if she only had a chance. 
 How often had she looked at the well-dressed actresses 
 on the stage and wondered how she would look, how de- 
 lightful she would feel if only she were in their place. 
 The glamour, the tense situation, the fine clothes, the ap- 
 plause, these had lured her until she felt that she, too, 
 could act that she, too, could compel acknowledgment 
 of power. Now she was told that she really could that 
 little things she had done about the house had made even 
 him feel her power. It was a delightful sensation while 
 it lasted. 
 
 When Drouet was gone, she sat down in her rocking- 
 chair by the window to think about it. As usual, imagi- 
 nation exaggerated the possibilities for her. It was as if 
 he had put fifty cents in her hand and she had exercised 
 the thoughts of a thousand dollars. She saw herself in a 
 score of pathetic situations in which she assumed a tremu- 
 lous voice and suffering manner. Her mind delighted it- 
 self with scenes of luxury and refinement, situations in 
 which she was the cynosure of all eyes, the arbiter of all 
 fates. As she rocked to and fro she felt the tensity of woe 
 in abandonment, the magnificence of wrath after decep- 
 tion, the languour of sorrow after defeat. Thoughts of all 
 the charming women she, had seen in plays every fancy, 
 every illusion which she had concerning the stage now 
 came back as a returning tide after the ebb. She built
 
 SISTER CARRIE 175 
 
 up feelings and a determination which the occasion did 
 not warrant. 
 
 Drouet dropped in at the lodge when he went down 
 town, and swashed around with a great air, as Quincel 
 met him. 
 
 " Where is that young lady you were going to get for 
 us?" asked the latter. 
 
 " I've got her," said Drouet. 
 
 "Have you?" said Quincel, rather surprised by his 
 promptness; " that's good. What's her address? " and he 
 pulled out his note-book in order to be able to send her 
 part to her. 
 
 " You want to send her her part? " asked the drummer. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Well, I'll take it. I'm going right by her house in 
 the morning." 
 
 " What did you say her address was? We only want it 
 in case we have any information to send her." 
 
 " Twenty-nine Ogden Place." 
 
 " And her name? " 
 
 " Carrie Madenda," said the drummer, firing at 
 random. The lodge members knew him to be 
 single. 
 
 " That sounds like somebody that can act, doesn't it? " 
 said Quincel. 
 
 " Yes, it does." 
 
 He took the part home to Carrie and handed it to her 
 with the manner of one who does a favour. 
 
 " He says that's the best part. Do you think you can 
 do it? " 
 
 " I don't know until I look it over. You know I'm 
 afraid, now that I've said I wowld." 
 
 " Oh, go on. What have you got to be afraid of? It's 
 a cheap company. The rest of them aren't as good as 
 you are."
 
 176 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 " Well, I'll see," said Carrie, pleased to have the part, 
 for all her misgivings. 
 
 He sidled around, dressing and fidgeting before he ar- 
 ranged to make his next remark. 
 
 " They were getting ready to print the programmes," 
 he said, " and I gave them the name of Carrie Madenda. 
 Was that all right? " 
 
 " Yes, I guess so," said his companion, looking up at 
 him. She was thinking it was slightly strange. 
 
 " If you didn't make a hit, you know," he went on. 
 
 " Oh, yes," she answered, rather pleased now with his 
 caution. It was clever for Drouet. 
 
 " I didn't want to introduce you as my wife, because 
 you'd feel worse then if you didn't go. They all know 
 me so well. But you'll go all right. Anyhow, you'll 
 probably never meet any of them again." 
 
 " Oh, I don't care," said Carrie desperately. She was 
 determined now to have a try at the fascinating game. 
 
 Drouet breathed a sigh of relief. He had been afraid 
 that he was about to precipitate another conversation 
 upon the marriage question. 
 
 The part of Laura, as Carrie found out when she be- 
 gan to examine it, was one of suffering and tears. As 
 delineated by Mr. Daly, it was true to the most sacred 
 traditions of melodrama as he found it when he began his 
 career. The sorrowful demeanour, the tremolo music, 
 the long, explanatory, cumulative addresses, all were 
 there. 
 
 " Poor fellow," read Carrie, consulting the text and 
 drawing her voice out pathetically. " Martin, be sure 
 and give him a glass of wine before he goes." 
 
 She was surprised at the briefness of the entire part, 
 not knowing that she must be on the stage while others 
 were talking, and not only be there, but also keep herself 
 n harmonv with the dramatic movement of the scenes.
 
 SISTER CARRIE 177 
 
 " I think I can do that, though," she concluded. 
 
 When Drouet came the next night, she was very much 
 satisfied with her day's study. 
 
 " Well, how goes it, Caddie?" he said. 
 
 " All right," she laughed. " I think I have it memo- 
 rised nearly." 
 
 " That's good," he said. " Let's hear some of it." 
 
 " Oh, I don't know whether I can get up and say it off 
 here," she said bashfully. 
 
 " Well, I don't know why you shouldn't. It'll be easier 
 here than it will there." 
 
 " I don't know about that," she answered. 
 
 Eventually she took off the ball-room episode with 
 considerable feeling, forgetting, as she got deeper in the 
 scene, all about Drouet, and letting herself rise to a fine 
 state of feeling. 
 
 " Good," said Drouet; " fine; out o' sight! You're all 
 right, Caddie, I tell you." 
 
 He was really moved by her excellent representation 
 and the general appearance of the pathetic little figure as 
 it swayed and finally fainted to the floor. He had 
 bounded up to catch her, and now held her laughing in 
 his arms. 
 
 " Ain't you afraid you'll hurt yourself? " he asked. 
 
 " Not a bit." 
 
 " Well, you're a wonder. Say, I never knew you could 
 do anything like that." 
 
 " I never did, either," said Carrie merrily, her face 
 flushed with delight. 
 
 " Well, you can bet that you're all right," said Drouet. 
 " You can take my word for that. You won't fail." 
 
 12 

 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 A GLIMPSE THROUGH THE GATEWAY: HOPE LIGHTENS 
 THE EYE 
 
 The, to Carrie, very important theatrical performance 
 was to take place at the Avery on conditions which 
 were to make it more noteworthy than was at first an- 
 ticipated. The little dramatic student had written to 
 Hurstwood the very morning her part was brought her 
 that she was going to take part in a play. 
 
 " I really am," she wrote, feeling that he might take it 
 as a jest; " I have my part now, honest, truly." 
 
 Hurstwood smiled in an indulgent way as he read this. 
 
 " I wonder what it is going to be? I must see that." 
 
 He answered at once, making a pleasant reference to 
 her ability. " I haven't the slightest doubt you will make 
 a success. You must come to the park to-morrow morn- 
 ing and tell me all about it." 
 
 Carrie gladly complied, and revealed all the details of 
 the undertaking as she understood it. 
 
 " Well," he said, " that's fine. I'm glad to hear it. 
 Of course, you will do well, you're so clever." 
 
 He had truly never seen so much spirit in the girl be- 
 fore. Her tendency to discover a touch of sadness had 
 for the nonce disappeared. As she spoke her eyes were 
 bright, her cheeks red. She radiated much of the pleasure 
 which her undertakings gave her. For all her misgivings 
 and they were as plentiful as the moments of the day 
 she was still happy. She could not repress her delight in
 
 SISTER CARRIE 179 
 
 doing this little thing which, to an ordinary observer, had 
 no importance at all. 
 
 Hurstwood was charmed by the development of the fact 
 that the girl had capabilities. There is nothing so inspir- 
 ing in life as the sight of a legitimate ambition, no matter 
 how incipient. It gives colour, force, and beauty to the 
 possessor. 
 
 Carrie was now lightened by a touch of this divine af- 
 flatus. She drew to herself commendation from her two 
 admirers which she had not earned. Their affection for 
 her naturally heightened their perception of what she was 
 trying to do and their approval of what she did. Her in- 
 experience conserved her own exuberant fancy, which 
 ran riot with every straw of opportunity, making of it a 
 golden divining rod whereby the treasure of life was to 
 be discovered. 
 
 " Let's see," said Hurstwood, " I ought to know some 
 of the boys in the lodge. I'm an Elk myself." 
 
 " Oh, you mustn't let him know I told you." 
 
 " That's so," said the manager. 
 
 " I'd like for you to be there, if you want to come, but 
 I don't see how you can unless he asks you." 
 
 " I'll be there," said Hurstwood affectionately. "_I can 
 fix it so he won't know you told me. You leave it to 
 nie." 
 
 . This interest of the manager was a large thing in itself 
 for the performance, for his standing among the Elks was 
 something worth talking about. Already he was think- 
 ing of a box with some friends, and flowers for Carrie. 
 He would make it a dress-suit affair and give the little 
 girl a chance. 
 
 Within a day or two, Drouet dropped into the Adams 
 Street resort, and he was at once spied by Hurstwood. It 
 was at five in the afternoon and the place was crowded 
 with merchants, actors, managers, politicians, a goodly
 
 I8o SISTER CARRIE 
 
 company of rotund, rosy figures, silk-hatted, starchy- 
 bosomed, beringed and bescarfpinned to the queen's 
 taste. John L. Sullivan, the pugilist, was at one end of 
 the glittering bar, surrounded by a company of loudly 
 dressed sports, who were holding a most animated con- 
 versation. Drouet came across the floor with a festive 
 stride, a new pair of tan shoes squeaking audibly at his 
 progress. 
 
 " Well, sir," said Hurstwood, " I was wondering what 
 had become of you. I thought you had gone out of town 
 again." 
 
 Drouet laughed. 
 
 " If you don't report more regularly we'll have to cut 
 you off the list." 
 
 " Couldn't help it," said the drummer, " I've teen 
 busy." 
 
 They strolled over toward the bar amid the noisy, shift- 
 ing company of notables. The dressy manager was 
 shaken by the hand three times in as many minutes. 
 
 " I hear your lodge is going to give a performance," 
 observed Hurstwood, in the most offhand manner. 
 
 " Yes, who told you? " 
 
 " No one," said Hurstwood. " They just sent me a 
 couple of tickets, which I can have for two dollars. Is it 
 going to be any good? " 
 
 " I don't know," replied the drummer. " They've been 
 trying to get me to get some woman to take a part." 
 
 " I wasn't intending to go," said the manager easily. 
 " I'll subscribe, of course. How are things over there? " 
 
 " All right. They're going to fit things up out of the 
 proceeds." 
 
 " Well," said the manager, " I hope they make a suc- 
 cess of it. Have another? " 
 
 He did not intend to say any more. Now, if he should 
 appear on the scene with a few friends, he could say that
 
 SISTER CARRIE l8i 
 
 lie had been urged to come along. Drouet had a desire to 
 wipe out the possibility of confusion. 
 
 " I think the girl is going to take a part in it," he said 
 abruptly, after thinking it over. 
 
 " You don't say so! How did that happen? " 
 
 " Well, they were short and wanted me to find them 
 some one. I told Carrie, and she seems to want to 
 try." 
 
 " Good for her," said the manager. " It'll be a real 
 nice affair. Do her good, too. Has she ever had any 
 experience? " 
 
 " Not a bit." 
 
 " Oh, well, it isn't anything very serious." 
 
 " She's clever, though," said Drouet, casting off any 
 imputation against Carrie's ability. " She picks up hef 
 part quick enough." 
 
 " You don't say so! " said the manager. 
 
 " Yes, sir ; she surprised me the other night. By 
 George, if she didn't." 
 
 " We must give her a nice little send-off," said the 
 manager. " I'll look after the flowers." 
 
 Drouet smiled at his good-nature. 
 
 " After the show you must come with me and we'll 
 have a little supper." 
 
 " I think she'll do all right," said Drouet. 
 
 " I want to see her. She's got to do all right. We'll 
 make her," and the manager gave one of his quick, steely 
 half-smiles, which was a compound of good-nature and 
 shrewdness. 
 
 Carrie, meanwhile, attended the first rehearsal. At this 
 performance Mr. Quincel presided, aided by Mr. Millice, 
 a young man who had some qualifications of past ex- 
 perience, which were not exactly understood by any one. 
 He was so experienced and so business-like, however, that 
 he came very near being rude failing to r&member, as
 
 !g2 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 he did, that the individuals he was trying to instruct were 
 volunteer players and not salaried underlings. 
 
 "Now, Miss Madenda," he said, addressing Carrie, 
 who stood in one part uncertain as to what move to make, 
 "you don't want to stand like that. Put expression in 
 your face. Remember, you are troubled over the intru- 
 sion of the stranger. Walk so," and he struck out 
 across the Avery stage in almost drooping manner. 
 
 Carrie did not exactly fancy the suggestion, but the 
 novelty of the situation, the presence of strangers, all more 
 or less nervous, and the desire to do anything rather than 
 make a failure, made her timid. She walked in imitation 
 of her mentor as requested, inwardly feeling that there 
 was something strangely lacking. 
 
 "Now, Mrs. Morgan," said the director to one young 
 married woman who was to take the part of Pearl, "you 
 sit here. Now, Mr. Bamberger, you stand here, so. Now, 
 what is it you say?" 
 
 "Explain," said Mr. Bamberger feebly. He had the 
 part of Ray, Laura's lover, the society individual who 
 was to waver in his thoughts of marrying her, upon 
 finding that she was a waif and a nobody by birth. 
 
 "How is that what does your text say?" 
 
 "Explain," repeated Mr. Bamberger, looking in- 
 iently at his part. 
 
 "Yes, but it also says," the director remarked, "that 
 you are to look shocked. Now, say it again, and see if 
 you can't look shocked." 
 
 "Explain!" demanded Mr. Bamberger vigorously. 
 
 "No, no, that won't do! Say it this way explain." 
 
 "Explain," said Mr. Bamberger, giving a modified 
 imitation. 
 
 "That's better. Now go on." 
 
 "One night," resumed Mrs. Morgan, whose lines 
 came next, "father and mother were going to the opera.
 
 SISTER CARRIE 183 
 
 When they were crossing Broadway, the usual crowd of 
 children accosted them for alms " 
 
 " Hold on," said the director, rushing forward, his arm 
 extended. " Put more feeling into what you are saying.' 5 
 
 Mrs. Morgan looked at him as if she feared a personal 
 assault. Her eye lightened with resentment. 
 
 " Remember, Mrs. Morgan," he added, ignoring the 
 gleam, but modifying his manner, " that you're detailing 
 a pathetic story. You are now supposed to be telling 
 something that is a grief to you. It requires feeling, re- 
 pression, thus: 'The usual crowd of children accosted 
 them for alms.' " 
 
 " All right," said Mrs. Morgan. 
 
 " Now, go on." 
 
 " As mother felt in her pocket for some change, her 
 fingers touched a cold and trembling hand which had 
 clutched her purse." 
 
 " Very good," interrupted the director, nodding his 
 head significantly. 
 
 " A pickpocket ! Well ! " exclaimed Mr. Bam- 
 berger, speaking the lines that here fell to him. 
 
 " No, no, Mr. Bamberger," said the director, approach- 
 ing, " not that way. ' A pickpocket well? ' so. That's 
 the idea." 
 
 " Don't you think," said Carrie weakly, noticing that it 
 had not been proved yet whether the members of the com- 
 pany knew their lines, let alone the details of expression, 
 " that it would be better if we just went through our lines 
 once to see if we know them? We might pick up some 
 points." 
 
 " A very good idea, Miss Madenda," said Mr. Quincel, 
 who sat at the side of the stage, looking serenely on 
 and volunteering opinions which the director did not 
 heed. 
 
 *' Ah right," said the latter, somewhat abashed. " it
 
 !84 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 might be well to do it." Then brightening, with a show 
 of authority, " Suppose we run right through, putting in 
 as much expression as we can." 
 
 " Good," said Mr. Quincel. 
 
 " This hand," resumed Mrs. Morgan, glancing up at 
 Mr. Bamberger and down at her book, as the lines pro- 
 ceeded, " my mother grasped in her own, and so tight 
 that a small, feeble voice uttered an exclamation of pain. 
 Mother looked down, and there beside her was a little 
 ragged girl." 
 
 " Very good," observed the director, now hopelessly 
 idle. 
 
 " The thief ! " exclaimed Mr. Bamberger. 
 
 " Louder," put in the director, finding it almost impos- 
 sible to keep his hands off. 
 
 " The thief ! " roared poor Bamberger. 
 
 " Yes, but a thief hardly six years old, with a face like 
 an angel's. ' Stop/ said my mother. ' What are you 
 doing? ' 
 
 " ' Trying to steal/ saM the child. 
 
 " ' Don't you know that it is wicked to do so ? ' asked 
 my father. 
 
 '' ' No/ said the ffiii, ' but it is dreadful to be 
 hungry/ 
 
 " ' Who told you to steal ? ' asked my mother. 
 
 ' ' She there/ said the child, pointing to a squalid 
 woman in a doorway opposite, who fled suddenly down 
 the street. ' That is old Judas/ said the girl." 
 
 Mrs. Morgan read this rather flatly, and the director was 
 in despair. He fidgeted around, and then went over to 
 Mr. Quincel. 
 
 " What do you think of them? " he asked. 
 
 " Oh, I guess we'll be able to whip them into shape," 
 said the latter, wkh an air of strength under difficulties. 
 
 " I don't know:' ssid the director. " That fellow Bam-
 
 SISTER CARRIE 185 
 
 berger strikes me as being a pretty poor shift for a 
 lover." 
 
 " He's all we've got," said Quincel, rolling up his eyes. 
 " Harrison went back on me at the last minute. Who 
 else can we get? " 
 
 " I don't know," said the director. " I'm afraid he'll 
 never pick up." 
 
 At this moment Bamberger was exclaiming, " Pearl, 
 you are joking with me." 
 
 " Look at that now," said the director, whispering be- 
 hind his hand. " My Lord! what can you do with a man 
 who drawls out a sentence like that? " 
 
 " Do the best you can," said Quincel consolingly. 
 
 The rendition ran on in this wise until it came to where 
 Carrie, as Laura, comes into the room to explain to Ray, 
 who, after hearing Pearl's statement about her birth, had 
 written the letter repudiating her, which, however, he did 
 not deliver. Bamberger was just concluding the words 
 of Ray, " I must go before she returns. Her step ! Too 
 late," and was cramming the letter in his pocket, when 
 She began sweetly with: 
 
 " Ray ! " 
 
 " Miss Miss Courtland," Bamberger faltered 
 weakly. 
 
 Carrie looked at him a moment and forgot all about the 
 company present. She began to feel the part, and sum- 
 moned an indifferent smile to her lips, turning as the 
 lines directed and going to a window, as if he were not 
 present. She did it with a grace which was fascinating 
 to look upon. 
 
 "Who is that woman?" asked the director, watching 
 Carrie in her little scene with Bamberger. 
 
 " Miss Madenda," said Quincel. 
 
 " I know her name," said the director, " but what does 
 she do? "
 
 !g6 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 " I don't know/' said Quincel. " She's a friend of one 
 of our members." 
 
 " Well, she's got more gumption than any one I've seen 
 here so far seems to take an interest in what she's 
 doing." 
 
 " Pretty, too, isn't she? " sa*d Quincel. 
 
 The director strolled away without answering. 
 
 In the second scene, where she was supposed to face the 
 company in the ball-room, she did even better, winning 
 the smile of the director, who volunteered, because of her 
 fascination for him, to come over and speak with her. 
 
 " Were you ever on the stage? " he asked insinuatingly. 
 
 " No? said Carrie. 
 
 " You do so well, I thought you might have had some 
 experience." 
 
 Carrie only smiled consciously. 
 
 He walked away to listen to Bamberger, who was 
 feebly spouting some ardent line. 
 
 Mrs. Morgan saw the drift of things and gleamed at 
 Carrie with envious and snapping black eyes. 
 
 " She's some cheap professional," she gave herself the 
 satisfaction of thinking, and scorned and hated her ac- 
 cordingly. 
 
 The rehearsal ended for one day, and Carrie went home 
 feeling that she had acquitted herself satisfactorily. The 
 words of the director were ringing in her ears, and she 
 longed for an opportunity to tell Hurstwood. She wanted 
 him to know just how well she was doing. Drouet, too, 
 was an object for her confidences. She could hardly wait 
 until he should ask her, and yet she did not have the vanity 
 to bring it up. The drummer, however, had another line 
 of thought to-night, and her little experience did not ap- 
 peal to him as important. He let the conversation drop, 
 save for what she chose to recite without solicitation, and 
 Carrie was not good at that. He took it for granted that
 
 SISTER CARRIE 187 
 
 she was doing very well and he was relieved of further 
 worry. Consequently he threw Carrie into repression, 
 which was irritating. She felt his indifference keenly and 
 longed to see Hurstwood. It was as if he were now the 
 only friend she had on earth. The next morning Drouet 
 was interested again, but the damage had been done. 
 
 She got a pretty letter from the manager, saying that 
 by the time she got it he would be waiting for her in the 
 park. When she came, he shone upon her as the morn- 
 ing sun. 
 
 " Well, my dear," he asked, " how did you come out? ** 
 
 " Well enough," she said, still somewhat reduced after 
 Drouet. 
 
 "Now, tell me just what you did. Was it 
 pleasant ? " 
 
 Carrie related the incidents of the rehearsal, warming 
 up as she proceeded. 
 
 " Well, that's delightful," said Hurstwood. " I'm so 
 glad. I must get over there to see you. When is the 
 next rehearsal?" 
 
 " Tuesday," said Carrie, " but they don't allow visitors." 
 
 " I imagine I could get in," said Hurstwood signifi- 
 cantly. 
 
 She was completely restored and delighted by his con- 
 sideration, but she made him promise not to come around. 
 
 " Now, you must do your best to please me," he said 
 encouragingly. " Just remember that I want you to suc- 
 ceed. We will make the performance wortn while. You 
 do that now." 
 
 " I'll try," said Carrie, brimming with affection and 
 enthusiasm. 
 
 " That's the girl," said Hurstwood fondly. " Now, re- 
 member," shaking an affectionate finger at her, " your 
 best." 
 
 " I will," she answered, looking back.
 
 J88 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 The whole earth was brimming sunshine that morning. 
 She tripped along, the clear sky pouring liquid blue into 
 her soul. Oh, blessed are the children of endeavour in 
 this, that they try and are hopeful. And blessed also are 
 they who, knowing, smile and approve.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 JUST OVER THE BORDER I A HAIL AND FAREWELL 
 
 By the evening of the i6th the subtle hand of Hurst- 
 wood had made itself apparent. He had given the word 
 among his friends and they were many and influential 
 that here was something which they ought to attend, 
 and, as a consequence, the sale of tickets by Mr. Quincel, 
 acting for the lodge, had been large. Small four-line 
 notes had appeared in all of the daily newspapers. These 
 he had arranged for by the aid of one of his newspaper 
 friends on the " Times," Mr. Harry McGarren, the man- 
 aging editor. 
 
 " Say, Harry," Hurstwood said to him one evening, 
 as the latter stood at the bar drinking before wending his 
 belated way homeward, " you can help the boys out, I 
 guess." 
 
 " What is it ? " said McGarren, pleased to be consulted 
 by the opulent manager. 
 
 " The Custer Lodge is getting up a little entertain- 
 ment for their own good, and they'd like a little newspaper 
 notice. You know what I mean a squib or two saying 
 that it's going to take place." 
 
 " Certainly," said McGarren, " I can fix that for you, 
 George." 
 
 At the same time Hurstwood kept himself wholly in 
 the background. The members of Custer Lodge could 
 scarcely understand why their little affair was taking so 
 well. Mr. Harry Quincel was looked upon as quite a 
 star for this sort of work.
 
 190 
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 By the time the i6th had arrived Hurstwood's friends 
 had rallied like Romans to a senator's call. A well- 
 dressed, good-natured, flatteringly-inclined audience 
 was assured from the moment he thought of assisting 
 Carrie. 
 
 That little student had mastered her part to her own 
 satisfaction, much as she trembled for her fate when she 
 should once face the gathered throng, behind the glare 
 of the footlights. She tried to console 'herself with the 
 thought that a score of other persons, men and women, 
 were equally tremulous concerning the outcome of their 
 efforts, but she could not disassociate the general danger 
 from her own individual liability. She feared that she 
 would forget her lines, that she might be unable to master 
 the feeling which she now felt concerning her own move- 
 ments in the play. At times she wished that she had never 
 gone into the affair; at others, she trembled lest she 
 should be paralysed with fear and stand white and gasp- 
 ing, not knowing what to say and spoiling the entire 
 performance. 
 
 the matter of the company, Mr. Bamberger had 
 disappeared. That hopeless example had fallen under 
 the lance of the director's criticism. Mrs. Morgan was still 
 present, but envious and determined, if for nothing more 
 than spite, to do as well as Carrie at least. A loafing 
 professional had been called in to assume the role of Ray, 
 and, while he was a poor stick of his kind, he was not 
 troubled by any of those qualms which attack the spirit 
 of those who have never faced an audience. He swashed 
 about (cautioned though he was to maintain silence con- 
 cerning his past theatrical relationships) in such a self- 
 confident manner that he was like to convince every one of 
 his identity by mere matter of circumstantial evidence. 
 
 " It is so easy," he said to Mrs. Morgan, in the usual af- 
 fected stage voice. "An audience would be the last
 
 SISTER CARRIE 191 
 
 thing to trouble me. It's the spirit of the part, you know, 
 that is difficult." 
 
 Carrie disliked his appearance, but she was too much 
 the actress not to swallow his qualities with complaisance, 
 seeing that she must suffer his fictitious love for the 
 evening. 
 
 At six she was ready to go. Theatrical paraphernalia 
 had been provided over and above her care. She had 
 practised her make-up in the morning, had rehearsed- 
 and arranged her material for the evening by one o'clock, 
 and had gone home to have a final look at her part, wait- 
 ing for the evening to come. 
 
 On this occasion tlie lodge sent a carriage. Drouet 
 rode with her as far as the door, and then went about the 
 neighbouring stores, looking for some good cigars. The 
 little actress marched nervously into her dressing-room 
 and began that painfully anticipated matter of make-up 
 which was to transform her, a simple maiden, to Laura, 
 The Belle of Society. 
 
 The flare of the gas-jets, the open trunks, suggestive oi 
 travel and display, the scattered contents of the make-up 
 box rouge, pearl powder, whiting, burnt cork, India 
 ink, pencils for the eyelids, wigs, scissors, looking-glasses, 
 drapery in short, all the nameless paraphernalia of dis- 
 guise, have a remarkable atmosphere of their own. Since 
 her arrival in the city many things had influenced her. 
 but always in a far-removed manner. This new atmos- 
 phere was more friendly. It was wholly unlike the greaf 
 brilliant mansions which waved her coldly away, per- 
 mitting her only awe and distant wonder. This took her 
 by the hand kindly, as one who says, " My dear, come in." 
 It opened for her as if for its own. She had wondered at 
 the greatness of the names upon the bill-boards, the 
 marvel of the long notices in the papers, the beauty of the 
 dresses upon the stage, the atmosphere of carriages,
 
 I 9 2 
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 
 flowers, refinement. Here was no illusion. Here was an 
 open door to see all of that. She had come upon it as one 
 who stumbles upon a secret passage, and, behold, she was 
 in the chamber of diamonds and delight ! 
 
 As she dressed with a flutter, in her little stage room, 
 hearing the voices outside, seeing Mr. Quincel hurrying 
 here and there, noting Mrs. Morgan and Mrs. Hoagland 
 at their nervous work of preparation, seeing all the twenty 
 members of the cast moving about and worrying over 
 what the result would be, she could not help thinking 
 what a delight this would be if it would endure ; how per- 
 fect a state, if she could only do well now, and then some 
 time get a place as a real actress. The thought had 
 taken a mighty hold upon her. It hummed in her ears as 
 the melody of an old song. 
 
 Outside in the little lobby another scene was being 
 enacted. Without the interest of Hurstwood, the little 
 hall would probably have been comfortably filled, for the 
 members of the lodge were moderately interested in it? 
 welfare. Hurstwood's word, however, had gone the 
 rounds. It was to be a full-dress affair. The four boxes 
 had been taken. Dr. Norman McNeill Hale and his wife 
 were to occupy one. This was quite a card. C. R. 
 Walker, dry-goods merchant and possessor of at least 
 two hundred thousand dollars, had taken another ; a well- 
 known coal merchant had been induced to take the third, 
 and Hurstwood and his friends the fourth. Among the 
 latter was Drouet. The people who were now pouring 
 here were not celebrities, nor even local notabilities, in a 
 general sense. They were the lights of a certain circle 
 the circle of small fortunes and secret order distinctions. 
 These gentlemen Elks knew the standing of one another. 
 They had regard for the ability which could amass a small 
 fortune, own a nice home, keep a barouche or carriage, 
 perhaps, wear fine clothes, and maintain a good mer-
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 193 
 
 cantile position. Naturally, Hurstwood, who was a little 
 above the order of mind which accepted this standard as 
 perfect, who had shrewdness and much assumption of 
 dignity, who held an imposing and authoritative position, 
 and commanded friendship by intuitive tact in handling 
 people, was quite a figure. He was more generally known 
 than most others in the same circle, and was looked upon 
 as some one whose reserve covered a mine of influence 
 and solid financial prosperity. 
 
 To-night he was in his element. He came with several 
 friends directly from Rector's in a carriage. In the lobby 
 he met Drouet, who was just returning from a trip for 
 more cigars. All five now joined in an animated con- 
 versation concerning the company present and the gen- 
 eral drift of lodge affairs. 
 
 " Who's here ? " said Hurstwood, passing into the 
 theatre proper, where the lights were turned up and a 
 company of gentlemen were laughing and talking in the 
 open space back of the seats. 
 
 " Why, how do you do, Mr. Hurstwood ? " came from 
 the first individual recognised. 
 
 " Glad to see you," said the latter, grasping his hand 
 lightly. 
 
 " Looks quite an affair, doesn't it ? " 
 
 " Yes, indeed," said the manager. 
 
 " Custer seems to have the backing of its members," 
 observed the friend. 
 
 " So it should," said the knowing manager. " I'm glad 
 to see it." 
 
 " Well, George," said another rotund citizen, whose 
 avoirdupois made necessary an almost alarming display 
 of starched shirt bosom, " how goes it with you ? " 
 
 " Excellent," said the manager. 
 
 " What brings you over here ? You're not a member of 
 Custer."
 
 194 
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 " Good-nature," returned the manager. " Like to see 
 the boys, you know." 
 
 " Wife here ? " 
 
 " She couldn't come to-night. She's not well." 
 
 " Sorry to hear it nothing serious, I hope." 
 
 " No, just feeling a little ill." 
 
 " I remember Mrs. Hurstwood when she was travelling 
 once with you over to St. Joe " and here the newcomer 
 launched off in a trivial recollection, which was terminated 
 by the arrival of more friends. 
 
 " Why, George, how are you ? " said another genial 
 West Side politician and lodge member. " My, but I'm 
 glad to see you again ; how are things, anyhow ? " 
 
 " Very well ; I see you got that nomination for alder- 
 man." 
 
 " Yes, we whipped them out over there without much 
 trouble." 
 
 " What do you suppose Hennessy will do now ? " 
 
 " Oh, he'll go back to his brick business. He has a 
 brick-yard, you know." 
 
 " I didn't know that,'" said the manager. " Felt pretty 
 sore, I suppose, over his defeat." 
 
 " Perhaps," said the other, winking shrewdly. 
 
 Some of the more favoured of his friends whom he had 
 invited began to roll up in carriages now. They came 
 shuffling in with a great show of finery and much evident 
 feeling of content and importance. 
 
 " Here we are," said Hurstwood, turning to one from a 
 group with wl-om he was talking. 
 
 " That's right," returned the newcomer, a gentleman of 
 about forty-five. 
 
 " And say," he whispered, jovially, pulling Hurst- 
 wood over by the shoulder so that he might whisper 
 in his ear, " if this isn't a good show, I'll punch your 
 head." i
 
 SISTER CARRIE 195 
 
 " You ought to pay for seeing your old friends. Bother 
 the show ! " 
 
 To another who inquired, " Is it something really 
 good? " the manager replied: 
 
 " I don't know. I don't suppose so." Then, lifting his 
 hand graciously, " For the lodge." 
 
 " Lots of boys out, eh ? " 
 
 " Yes, look up Shanahan. He was just asking for you 
 a moment ago." 
 
 It was thus that the little theatre resounded to a babble 
 of successful voices, the creak of fine clothes, the common- 
 place of good-nature, and all largely because of this man's 
 bidding. Look at him any time within the half hour be- 
 fore the curtain was up, he was a member of an eminent 
 group a rounded company of five or more whose stout 
 figures, large white bosoms, and shining pins bespoke 
 the character of their success. The gentlemen who 
 brought their wives called him out to shake hands. Seats 
 clicked, ushers bowed while he looked blandly on. He 
 was evidently a light among them, reflecting in his per- 
 sonality the ambitions of those who greeted him. He 
 was acknowledged, fawned upon, in a way lionised. 
 Through it all one could see the standing of the man. 
 It was greatness in a way. small as it was.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 AN HOUR IN ELFLAND: A CLAMOUR HALF HEARD 
 
 At last the curtain was ready to go up. All the details 
 of the make-up had been completed, and the company set- 
 tled down as the leader of the small, hired orchestra 
 tapped significantly upon his music rack with his baton 
 and began the soft curtain-raising strain. Hurstwood 
 ceased talking, and went with Drouet and his friend Sagar 
 Morrison around to the box. 
 
 " Now, we'll see how the little girl does," he said to 
 Drouet, in a tone which no one else could hear. 
 
 On the stage, six of the characters had already ap- 
 peared in the opening parlour scene. Drouet and Hurst- 
 wood saw at a glance that Carrie was not among them, 
 and went on talking in a whisper. Mrs. Morgan, Mrs. 
 Hoagland, and the actor who had taken Bamberger's part 
 were representing the principal roles in this scene. The 
 professional, whose name was Patton, had little to recom- 
 mend him outside of his assurance, but this at the present 
 moment was most palpably needed. Mrs. Morgan, as 
 Pearl, was stiff with fright. Mrs. Hoagland was husky 
 in the throat. The whole company was so weak-kneed 
 that the lines were merely spoken, and nothing more. 
 It took all the hope and uncritical good-nature of the 
 audience to keep from manifesting pity by that unrest 
 which is the agony of failure. 
 
 Hurstwood was perfectly indifferent. He took it for 
 granted that it would be worthless. All he cared for wa*
 
 SISTER CARRIE igf 
 
 to tiave it endurable enough to allow for pretension and 
 congratulation afterward. 
 
 After the first rush of fright, however, the players got 
 over the danger of collapse. They rambled weakly for- 
 ward, losing nearly all the expression which was in- 
 tended, and making the thing dull in the extreme, when 
 Carrie came in. 
 
 One glance at her, and both Hurstwood and Drouet 
 saw plainly that she also was weak-kneed. She came 
 faintly across the stage, saying: 
 
 " And you, sir; we have been looking for you since 
 eight o'clock," but with so little colour and in such a 
 feeble voice that it was positively painful. 
 
 " She's frightened," whispered Drouet to Hurstwood. 
 
 The manager made no answer. 
 
 She had a line presently which was supposed to be 
 funny. 
 
 "Well, that's as much as to say that I'm a sort of 
 life pill." 
 
 It came out so .flat, however, that it was a deathly thing. 
 Drouet fidgeted. Hurstwood moved his toe the least 
 bit. 
 
 There was another place in which Laura was to rise 
 and, with a sense of impending disaster, say, sadly : 
 
 " I wish you hadn't said that, Pearl. You know the old 
 proverb, ' Call a maid by a married name.' " 
 
 The lack of feeling in the thing was jidiculous. Carrie 
 did not get it at all. She seemed to be talking in her sleep. 
 It looked as if she were certain to be a wretched failure. 
 She was more hopeless than Mrs. Morgan, who had re- 
 covered somewhat, and was now saying her lines clearly 
 at least. Drouet looked away from the stage at the audi- 
 ence. The latter held out silently, hoping for a general 
 change, of course. Hurstwood fixed his eye on Carrie, as 
 if to hypnotise her into doing better. He was pouring de-
 
 193 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 termination of his own in her direction. He felt sorry 
 for her. 
 
 In a few more minutes it fell to her to read the lettef 
 sent in by the strange villain. The audience had been 
 slightly diverted by a conversation between the pro- 
 fessional actor and a character called Snorky, imper- 
 sonated by a short little American, who really developed 
 some humour as a half-crazed, one-armed soldier, turned 
 messenger for a living. He bawled his lines out with such 
 defiance that, while they really did not partake of the 
 humour intended, they were funny. Now he was off, how- 
 ever, and it was back to pathos, with Carrie as the chief 
 figure. She did not recover. She wandered through the 
 whole scene between herself and the intruding villain, 
 straining the patience of the audience, and finally exiting, 
 much to their relief. 
 
 " She's too nervous," said Drouet, feeling in the mild- 
 ness of the remark that he was lying for once. 
 
 " Better go back and say a word to her." 
 
 Drouet was glad to do anything for relief. He fairly 
 hustled around to the side entrance, and was let in by the 
 friendly doorkeeper. Carrie was standing in the wings, 
 weakly waiting her next cue, all the snap and nerve gone 
 out of her. 
 
 " Say, Cad," he said, looking at her, " you mustn't be 
 nervous. Wake up. Those guys out there don't amount 
 to anything. What are you afraid of ? " 
 
 " I don't know," said Carrie. " I just don't seem to be 
 able to do it." 
 
 She was grateful for the drummer's presence, though. 
 She had found the company so nervous that her own 
 strength had gone. 
 
 " Come on," said Drouet. " Brace up. What are you 
 afraid of? Go on out there now, and do the trick. What 
 do you care ? "
 
 SISTER CARRIE 1 9^ 
 
 Carrie revived a little under the drummer's electrical, 
 nervous condition. 
 
 " Did I do so very bad ? " 
 
 " Not a bit. All you need is a little more ginger. Do it 
 as you showed me. Get that toss of your head you had 
 the other night." 
 
 Carrie remembered her triumph in the room. She tried 
 to think she could do it. 
 
 " What's next ? " he said, looking at her part, which 
 she had been studying. 
 
 " Why, the scene between Ray and me when I refuse 
 him." 
 
 " Well, now you do that lively," said the drummer. 
 " Put in snap, that's the thing. Act as if you didn't 
 care." 
 
 " Your turn next, Miss Madenda," said the prompter. 
 
 " Oh, dear," said Carrie. 
 
 " Well, you're a chump for being afraid," said Drouet. 
 " Come on now, brace up. I'll watch you from right 
 here." 
 
 " Will you ? " said Carrie. 
 
 " Yes, now go on. Don't be afraid." 
 
 The prompter signalled her. 
 
 She started out, weak as ever, but suddenly her nerve 
 partially returned. She thought of Drouet looking. 
 
 " Ray," she said, gently, using a tone of voice much 
 more calm than when she had last appeared. It was the 
 scene which had pleased the director at the rehearsal. 
 
 " She's easier," thought Hurstwood to himself. 
 
 She did not do the part as she had at rehearsal, but she 
 was better. The audience was at least not irritated. The 
 improvement of the work of the entire company took 
 away direct observation from her. Thev were making 
 very fair progress, and now it looked as if the play would 
 be passable, in the less trying parts at least.
 
 200 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 Carrie came off warm and nervous. 
 
 " Well," she said, looking at him, " was it any better? " 
 
 " Well, I should say so. That's the way. Put life into 
 it. You did that about a thousand per cent, better than 
 you did the other scene. Now go on and fire up. You 
 can do it. Knock 'em." 
 
 " Was it really better ? " 
 
 " Better, I should say so. What comes next? " 
 
 " That ballroom scene." 
 
 " Well, you can do that all right," he said. 
 
 " I don't know," answered Carrie. 
 
 " Why, woman," he exclaimed, " you did it for me ! 
 Now you go out there and do it. It'll be fun for you. 
 Just do as you did in the room. If you'll reel it off that 
 way, I'll bet you make a hit. Now, what'll you bet? 
 You do it." 
 
 The drummer usually allowed his ardent good-nature 
 to get the better of his speech. He really did think that 
 Carrie had acted this particular scene very well, and he 
 wanted her to repeat it in public. His enthusiasm was due 
 to the mere spirit of the occasion. 
 
 When the time came, he buoyed Carrie up most ef- 
 fectually. He began to make her feel as if she had done 
 very well. The old melancholy of desire began to come 
 back as he talked at her, and by the time the situation 
 rolled around she was running high in feeling. 
 
 " I think I can do this." 
 
 " Sure you can. Now you go ahead and see." 
 
 On the stage, Mrs. Van Dam was making her cruel 
 insinuation against Laura. 
 
 Carrie listened, and caught the infection of something 
 she did not know what. Her nostrils sniffed thinly. 
 
 " It means," the professional actor began, speaking 
 as Ray, " that society is a terrible avenger of insult. 
 Have you ever heard of the Siberian wolves? When
 
 SISTER CARRIE 2OI 
 
 one of the pack falls through weakness, the others de- 
 vour him. It is not an elegant comparison, but there 
 is something wolfish in society. Laura has mocked it 
 with a pretence, and society, which is made up of pre> 
 tence, will bitterly resent the mockery." 
 
 At the sound of her stage name Carrie started. She 
 began to feel the bitterness of the situation. The feelings 
 of the outcast descended upon her. She hung at the 
 wing's edge, wrapt in her own mounting thoughts. She 
 hardly heard anything more, save her own rumbling 
 blood. 
 
 " Come, girls," said Mrs. Van Dam, solemnly, " let 
 us look after our things. They are no longer safe when 
 such an accomplished thief enters." 
 
 " Cue," said the prompter, close to her side, but she did 
 not hear. Already she was moving forward with a steady 
 grace, born of inspiration. She dawned upon the audi- 
 ence, handsome and proud, shifting, with the necessity of 
 the situation, to a cold, white, helpless object, as the social 
 pack moved away from her scornfully. 
 
 Hurstwood blinked his eyes and caught the infection. 
 The radiating waves of feeling and sincerity were already 
 breaking against the farthest walls of the chamber. The 
 magic of passion, which will yet dissolve the world, was 
 here at work. 
 
 There was a drawing, too, of attention, a riveting of 
 feeling, heretofore wandering. 
 
 " Ray ! Ray ! Why do you not come back to her ? " 
 was the cry of Pearl. 
 
 Every eye was fixed on Carrie, still proud and scornful. 
 They moved as she moved. Their eyes were with her 
 eyes. 
 
 Mrs. Morgan, as Pearl, approached her. 
 
 " Let us go home," she said. 
 
 " No," answered Carrie, her voice assuming for the
 
 202 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 first time a penetrating quality which it had never 
 known. " Stay with him ! " 
 
 She pointed an almost accusing hand toward her lover. 
 Then, with a pathos which struck home because of its 
 utter simplicity, " He shall not suffer long." 
 
 Hurstwood realised that he was seeing something ex- 
 traordinarily good. It was heightened for him by the 
 applause of the audience as the curtain descended and the 
 fact that it was Carrie. He thought now that she was 
 beautiful. She had done something which was above his 
 sphere. He felt a keen delight in realising that she was 
 his. 
 
 " Fine," he said, and then, seized by a sudden impulse, 
 arose and went about to the stage door. 
 
 When he came in upon Carrie she was still with Drouet. 
 His feelings for her were most exuberant. He was almost 
 swept away by the strength and feeling she exhibited. 
 His desire was to pour forth his praise with the un- 
 bounded feelings of a lover, but here was Drouet, whose 
 affection was also rapidly reviving. The latter was more 
 fascinated, if anything, than Hurstwood. At least, in the 
 nature of things, it took a more ruddy form. 
 
 " Well, well," said Drouet, " you did out of sight. 
 That was simply great. I knew you could do it. Oh, 
 but you're a little daisy ! " 
 
 Carrie's eyes flamed with the light of achievement. 
 
 ""Did I do all right?" 
 
 " Did you ? Well, I guess. Didn't you hear the ap- 
 plause ? " 
 
 There was some faint sound of clapping yet. 
 
 " I thought I got it something like I felt it." 
 
 Just then Hurstwood came in. Instinctively he felt 
 the change in Drouet. He saw that the drummer was 
 near to Carrie, and jealousy leaped alight in his bosom. 
 In a flash of thought, he reproached himself for having
 
 SISTER CARRIE 203 
 
 sent him back. Also, he hated him as an intruder. He 
 could scarcely pull himself down to the level where he 
 would have to congratulate Carrie as a friend. Neverthe- 
 less, the man mastered himself, and it was a triumph. He 
 almost jerked the old subtle light to his eyes. 
 
 " I thought," he said, looking at Carrie, " I would 
 come around and tell you how well you did, Mrs. Drouet. 
 It was delightful." 
 
 Carrie took the cue, and replied: 
 
 " Oh, thank you." 
 
 " I was just telling her," put in Drouet, now delighted 
 with his possession, " that I thought she did fine." 
 
 " Indeed you did," said Hurstwood, turning upon Car- 
 rie eyes in which she read more than the words. 
 
 Carrie laughed luxuriantly. 
 
 " If you do as well in the rest of the play, you will make 
 us all think you are a born actress." 
 
 Carrie smiled again. She felt the acuteness of Hurst- 
 wood's position, and wished deeply that she could be 
 alone with him, but she did not understand the change in 
 Drouet. Hurstwood found that he could not talk, re- 
 pressed as he was, and grudging Drouet every moment of 
 his presence, he bowed himself out with the elegance of 
 a Faust. Outside he set his teeth with envy. 
 
 """'Damn it! " he said, " is he always going to be in the 
 way ? " He was moody when he got back to the box, and 
 could not talk for thinking of his wretched situation. 
 
 As the curtain for the next act arose, Drouet came 
 back. He was very much enlivened in temper and in- 
 clined to whisper, but Hurstwood pretended interest. 
 He fixed his eyes on the stage, although Carrie was not 
 there, a short bit of melodramatic comedy preceding hef 
 entrance. He did not see what was going on, however. 
 He was thinking his own thoughts, and they were 
 wretched.
 
 2c>4 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 The progress of the play did not improve matters for 
 him. Carrie, from now on, was easily the centre of inter- 
 est. The audience, which had been inclined to feel that 
 nothing could be good after the first gloomy impression, 
 now went to the other extreme and saw power where it 
 was not. The general feeling reacted on Carrie. She 
 presented her part with some felicity, though nothing 
 like the intensity which had aroused the feeling at the 
 end of the long first act. 
 
 Both Hurstwood and Drouet viewed her pretty figure 
 with rising feelings. The fact that such ability should 
 reveal itself in her, that they should see it set forth under 
 such effective circumstances, framed almost in massy 
 gold and shone upon by the appropriate lights of senti- 
 ment and personality, heightened her charm for them. 
 She was more than the old Carrie to Drouet. He 
 longed to be at home with her until he could tell her. 
 He awaited impatiently the end, when they should go 
 home alone. 
 
 Hurstwood, on the contrary, saw in the strength of her 
 new attractiveness his miserable predicament. He could 
 have cursed the man beside him. By the Lord, he could 
 not even applaud feelingly as he would. For once he must 
 simulate when it left a taste in his mouth. 
 
 It was in the last act that Carrie's fascination for her 
 lovers assumed its most effective character. 
 
 Hurstwood listened to its progress, wondering when 
 Carrie would come on. He had not long to wait. The 
 author had used the artifice of sending all the merry com- 
 pany for a drive, and now Carrie came in alone. It was 
 the first time that Hurstwood had had a chance to see her 
 facing the audience quite alone, for nowhere else had she 
 been without a foil of some sort. He suddenly felt, as she 
 entered, that her old strength the power that had grasped 
 him at the end of the 5rst act had come back. She
 
 SISTER CARRIE 205 
 
 seemed to be gaining feeling, now that the play was draw- 
 ing to a close and the opportunity for great action was 
 passing. 
 
 " Poor Pearl," she said, speaking with natural pathos. 
 " It is a sad thing to want for happiness, but it is a terrible 
 thing to see another groping about blindly for it, when it 
 is almost within the grasp." 
 
 She was gazing now sadly out upon the open sea, her 
 arm resting listlessly upon the polished door-post. 
 
 Hurstwood began to feel a deep sympathy for her and 
 for himself. He could almost feel that she was talking to 
 him. He was, by a combination of feelings and entangle- 
 ments, almost deluded by that quality of voice and manner 
 which, like a pathetic strain of music, seems ever a per- 
 sonal and intimate thing. Pathos has this quality, that 
 it seems ever addressed to one alone. 
 
 " And yet, she can be very happy with him," went on 
 the little actress. " Her sunny temper, her joyous face 
 will brighten any home." 
 
 She turned slowly toward the audience without seeing. 
 There was so much simplicity in her movements that she 
 seemed wholly alone. Then she found a seat by a table, 
 and turned over some books, devoting a thought to 
 them. 
 
 " With no longings for what I may not have," she 
 breathed in conclusion and it was almost a sigh " my 
 existence hidden from all save two ir the wide world, and 
 making my joy out of the joy of that innocent girl who 
 will soon be his wife." 
 
 Hurstwood was sorry when a character, known as 
 Peach Blossom, interrupted her. He stirred irritably, 
 for he wished her to go on. He was charmed by the pale 
 face, the lissome figure, draped in pearl grey, with a coiled 
 string of pears at the throat. Carrie had the air of one who 
 was weary and in need of protection, and, under the fas--
 
 206 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 cinating make-believe of the moment, he rose in feeling 
 until he was ready in spirit to go to her and ease her out 
 of her misery by adding to his own delight. 
 
 In a moment Carrie was alone again, and was saying, 
 with animation: 
 
 " I must return to the city, no matter what dangers 
 may lurk here. I must go, secretly if I can ; openly, 
 if I must." 
 
 There was a sound of horses' hoofs outside, and then 
 Ray's voice saying: 
 
 " No, I shall not ride again. Put him up." 
 
 He entered, and then began a scene which had as much 
 to do with the creation of the tragedy of affection in 
 Hurstwood as anything in his peculiar and involved 
 career. For Carrie had resolved to make something 
 of this scene, and, now that the cue had come, it 
 began to take a feeling hold upon her. Both Hurst- 
 wood and Drouet noted the rising sentiment as she 
 proceeded. 
 
 " I thought you had gone with Pearl," she said to 
 her lover. 
 
 " I did go part of the way, but I left the party a mile 
 down the road." 
 
 " You and Pearl had no disagreement? " 
 
 " No yes ; that is, we always have. Our social 
 barometers always stand at ' cloudy ' and over- 
 cast.' " 
 
 " And whose fault is that? " she said, easily. 
 
 " Not mine," he answered, pettishly. " I know I do all 
 I can I say all I can but she " 
 
 This was rather awkwardly put by Patton, but Carrie 
 redeemed it with a grace which was inspiring. 
 
 " But she is your wife," she said, fixing her whole at- 
 tention upon the stilled actor, and softening the quality of 
 her voice until it was again low and musical. " Ray, my
 
 SISTER CARRIE 207 
 
 friend, courtship is the text from which the whole sermon 
 of married life takes its theme. Do not let yours be dis- 
 contented and unhappy." 
 
 She put her two little hands together and pressed them 
 appealingly. 
 
 Hurstwood gazed with slightly parted lips. Drouet 
 was fidgeting with satisfaction. 
 
 " To be my wife, yes," went on the actor in a manner 
 which was weak by comparison, but which could not 
 now spoil the tender atmosphere which Carrie had created 
 and maintained. She did not seem to feel that he was 
 wretched. She would have done nearly as well with a 
 block of wood. The accessories she needed were within 
 her own imagination. The acting of others could not 
 affect them. 
 
 " And you repent already? " she said, slowly. 
 
 " I lost you," he said, seizing her little hand, " and I 
 was at the mercy of any flirt who chose to give me an in- 
 viting look. It was your fault you know it was why 
 did you leave me? " 
 
 Carrie turned slowly away, and seemed to be mastering 
 some impulse in silence. Then she turned back. 
 
 " Ray," she said, " the greatest happiness I have ever 
 felt has been the thought that all your affection was for- 
 ever bestowed upon a virtuous woman, your equal in fam- 
 ily, fortune, and accomplishments. What a revelation do 
 you make to me now ! What is it makes you continually 
 war with your happiness ? " 
 
 The last question was asked so simply that it came to 
 the audience and the lover as a personal thing. 
 
 At last it came to the part where the lover exclaimed, 
 " Be to me as you used to be." 
 
 Carrie answered, with affecting sweetness, " I can- 
 not be that to you, but I can speak in the spirit of the 
 'Laura who is dead to you forever."
 
 208 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 " Be it as you will," said Patton. 
 
 Hurstwood leaned forward. The. whole audience was 
 silent and intent. 
 
 " Let the woman you look upon be wise or vain," 
 said Carrie, her eyes bent sadly upon the lover, who had 
 sunk into a seat, " beautiful or homely, rich or poor, 
 she has but one thing she can really give or refuse her 
 heart." 
 
 Drouet felt a scratch in his throat. 
 
 " Her beauty, her wit, her accomplishments, she may 
 sell to you ; but her love is the treasure without money and 
 without price." 
 
 The manager suffered this as a personal appeal. It came 
 to him as if they were alone, and he could hardly restrain 
 the tears for sorrow over the hopeless, pathetic, and yet 
 dainty and appealing woman whom he loved. Drouet 
 also was beside himself. He was resolving that he would 
 be to Carrie what he had never been before. He would 
 marry her, by George ! She was worth it. 
 
 " She asks only in return," said Carrie, scarcely hear- 
 ing the small, scheduled reply of her lover, and putting 
 herself even more in harmony with the plaintive melody 
 now issuing from the orchestra, " that when you look 
 upon her your eyes shall speak devotion ; that when you 
 address her your voice shall be gentle, loving, and kind ; 
 that you shall not despise her because she cannot under- 
 stand all at once your vigorous thoughts and ambitious 
 designs; for, when misfortune and evil have defeated 
 your greatest purposes, her love remains to console you. 
 You look to the trees," she continued, while Hurstwood 
 restrained his feelings only by the grimmest repression, 
 " for strength and grandeur ; do not despise the flowers 
 because their fragrance is all they have to give. Remem- 
 ber," she concluded, tenderly, " loVe is all a woman has to 
 give," and she laid a strange, sweet accent on the all,
 
 SISTER CARRIE 2Of) 
 
 " but it is the only thing which God permits us to carry 
 beyond the grave." 
 
 The two men were in the most harrowed state of af j 
 fection. They scarcely heard the few remaining words 
 with which the scene concluded. They only saw their 
 idol, moving about with appealing grace, continuing a 
 power which to them was a revelation. 
 
 Hurstwood resolved a thousand things, Drouet as well. 
 They joined equally in the burst of applause which called 
 Carrie out. Drouet pounded his hands until they ached. 
 Then he jumped up again and started out. As he went, 
 Carrie came out, and, seeing an immense basket of flowers 
 being hurried down the aisle toward her, she waited. 
 They were Hurstwood's. She looked toward the man- 
 ager's box for a moment, caught his eye, and smiled. He 
 could have leaped out of the box to enfold her. He forgot 
 the need of circumspectness which his married state en- 
 forced. He almost forgot that he had with him in the box 
 those who knew him. By the Lord, he would have that 
 lovely girl if it took his all. He would act at once. This 
 should be the end of Drouet, and don't you forget it. He 
 would not wait another day. The drummer should not 
 have her. 
 
 He was so excited that he could not stay in the box. 
 He went into the lobby, and then into the street, thinking, 
 Drouet did not return. In a few minutes the last act 
 was over, and he was crazy to have Carrie alone. He 
 cursed the luck that could keep him smiling, bowing, 
 shamming, when he wanted to tell her that he loved her, 
 when he wanted to whisper to her alone. He groaned 
 as he saw that his hopes were futile. He must even take 
 her to supper, shamming. He finally went about and 
 asked how she was getting along. The actors were all 
 dressing, talking, hurrying about. Drouet was palav- 
 ering himself with the looseness of excitement and pas'
 
 HO SISTER CARRIE 
 
 gion. The manager mastered himself only by a great 
 ffort. 
 
 " We are going to supper, of course," he said, with a 
 voice that was a mockery of his heart. 
 
 " Oh, yes," said Carrie, smiling. 
 
 The little actress was in fine feather. She was realis- 
 ing now what it was to be petted. For once she was the 
 admired, the sought-for. The independence of success 
 now made its first faint showing. With the tables turned, 
 she was looking- down, rather than up, to her lover. She 
 did not fully realise that this was so, but there was some- 
 thing in condescension coming from her which was in- 
 finitely sweet. When she was ready they climbed into the 
 waiting coach and drove down town ; once, only, did she 
 find an opportunity to express her feeling, and that was 
 when the manager preceded Drouet in the coach and sat 
 beside her. Before Drouet was fully in she had squeezed 
 Hurstwood's hand in a gentle, impulsive manner. The 
 manager was beside himself with affection. He could 
 have sold his soul to be with her alone. " Ah," he 
 thought, " the agony of it." 
 
 Drouet hung on, thinking he was all in all. The dinner 
 was spoiled by his enthusiasm. Hurstwood went home 
 feeling as if he should die if he did not find affectionate re- 
 lief. He whispered " to-morrow " passionately to Carrie, 
 and she understood. He walked away from the drummer 
 and his prize at parting feeling as if he could slay him and 
 not regret. Carrie also felt the misery of it. 
 
 " Good-night," he said, simulating an easy friendliness. 
 
 " Good-night," said the little actress, tenderly. 
 
 " The fool ! " he said, now hating Drouet. " The idiot ! 
 I'll do him yet, and that quick ! We'll see to-morrow." 
 
 " Well, if you aren't a wonder," Drouet was saying, 
 complacently, squeezing Carrie's arm. " You are the 
 dandiest little girl on earth."
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 THE LURE OF THE SPIRIT: THE FLESH IN PURSUIT 
 
 Passion in a man of Hurstwood's nature takes a vig- 
 orous form. It is no musing, dreamy thing. There is 
 none of the tendency to sing outside of my lady's window 
 to languish and repine in the face of difficulties. In the 
 night he was long getting to sleep because of too much 
 thinking, and in the morning he was early awake, seizing 
 with alacrity upon the same dear subject and pursuing it 
 With vigour. He was out of sorts physically, as well as 
 disordered mentally, for did he not delight in a new man- 
 ner in his Carrie, and was not Drouet in the way ? Never 
 was man more harassed than he by the thoughts of his 
 love being held by the elated, flush-mannered drummer. 
 He would have given anything, it seemed to him, to have 
 the complication ended to have Carrie acquiesce to an 
 arrangement which would dispose of Drouet effectually 
 and forever. 
 
 What to do. He dressed thinking. He moved about 
 in the same chamber with his wife, unmindful of her 
 presence. 
 
 At breakfast he found himself without an appetite. 
 The meat to which he helped himself remained on his 
 plate untouched. His coffee grew cold, while he scanned 
 the paper indifferently. Here and there he read a little 
 thing, but remembered nothing. Jessica had not yet 
 come down. His wife sat at one end of the table revolv- 
 ing thoughts of her own in silence. A new servant had
 
 212 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 been recently installed and had forgot the napkins. On 
 this account the silence was irritably broken by a reproof. 
 
 " I've told you about this before, Maggie," said Mrs. 
 Hurstwood. " I'm not going to tell you again." 
 
 Hurstwood took a glance at his wife. She was frown- 
 ing. Just now her manner irritated him excessively. 
 Her next remark was addressed to him. 
 
 " Have you made up your mind, George, when you will 
 take your vacation ? " 
 
 It was customary for them to discuss the regular sum- 
 mer outing at this season of the year. 
 
 " Not yet," he said, " I'm very busy just now." 
 
 " Well, you'll want to make up your mind pretty soon, 
 won't you, if we're going? " she returned. 
 
 " I guess we have a few days yet," he said. 
 
 " Hmff," she returned. " Don't wait until the season's 
 over." 
 
 She stirred in aggravation as she said this. 
 
 " There you go again," he observed. " One would think 
 I never did anything, the way you begin." 
 
 " Well, I want to know about it," she reiterated. 
 
 " You've got a few days yet," he insisted. " You'll not 
 Want to start before the races are over." 
 
 He was irritated to think that this should come up when 
 he wished to have his thoughts for other purposes. 
 
 " Well, we may. Jessica doesn't want to stay until thf 
 end of the races." 
 
 " What did you want with a season ticket, then ? " 
 
 " Uh ! " she said, using the sound as an exclamation of 
 disgust, " I'll not argue with you," and therewith arose 
 to leave the table. 
 
 " Say," he said, rising, putting a note of determination 
 in his voice which caused her to delay her departure. 
 " what's the matter with you of late ? Can't I talk with you 
 any more ? "
 
 SISTER CARRIE 213 
 
 " Certainly, you can talk with me," she replied, laying 
 emphasis on the word. 
 
 " Well, you wouldn't think so by the way you act. 
 Now, you want to know when I'll be ready not for a 
 month yet. Maybe not then." 
 
 " We'll go without you." 
 
 " You will, eh ? " he sneered. 
 
 " Yes, we will." 
 
 He was astonished at the woman's determination, but 
 it only irritated him the more. 
 
 " Well, we'll see about thai. It seems to me you're try- 
 ing to run things with a pretty high hand of late. You 
 talk as though you settled my affairs for me. Well, you 
 don't. You don't regulate anything that's connected with 
 me. If you want to go, go, but you won't hurry me by any 
 such talk as that." 
 
 He was thoroughly aroused now. His dark eyes 
 snapped, and he crunched his paper as he laid it down. 
 Mrs. Hurstwood said nothing more. He was just fin- 
 ishing when she turned on her heel and went out into the 
 hall and upstairs. He paused for a moment, as if hesi- 
 tating, then sat down and drank a little coffee, and there- 
 after arose and went for his hat and gloves upon the main 
 floor. 
 
 His wife had really not anticipated a row of this char- 
 acter. She had come down to the breakfast table feeling 
 a little out of sorts with herself and revolving a scheme 
 which she had in her mind. Jessica had called her at- 
 tion to the fact that the races were not what they were sup- 
 posed to be. The social opportunities were not what they 
 had thought they would be this year. The beautiful girl 
 found going every day a dull thing. There was an earlier 
 exodus this year of people who were anybody to the water- 
 ing places and Europe. In her own circle of acquaint- 
 ances several young men in whom she was interested had
 
 214 
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 gone to Waukesha. She began to feel that she would like 
 to go too, and her mother agreed with her. 
 
 Accordingly, Mrs. Hurstwood decided to broach the 
 subject. She was thinking this over when she came 
 down to the table, but for some reason the atmosphere 
 was wrong. She was not sure, after it was all over, just 
 how the trouble had begun. She was determined now, 
 however, that her husband was a brute, and that, under no 
 circumstances, would she let this go by unsettled. She 
 would have more lady-like treatment or she would 
 know why. 
 
 For his part, the manager was loaded with the care of 
 ihis new argument until he reached his office and started 
 from there to meet Carrie. Then the other complications 
 of love, desire, and opposition possessed him. His 
 thoughts fled on before him upon eagles' wings. He 
 could hardly wait until he should meet Carrie face to face. 
 What was the night, after all, without her what the day ? 
 She must and should be his. 
 
 For her part, Carrie had experienced a world of fancy 
 and feeling since she had left him, the night before. She 
 had listened to Drouet's enthusiastic maunderings with 
 much regard for that part which concerned herself, with 
 very little for that which affected his own gain. She kept 
 him at such lengths as she could, because her thoughts 
 were with her own triumph. She felt Hurstwood's pas- 
 sion as a delightful background to her own achievement, 
 and she wondered what he would have to say. She was 
 sorry for him, too, with that peculiar sorrow which finds 
 something complimentary to itself in the misery of an- 
 other. She was now experiencing the first shades of feel- 
 "mg of that subtle change which removes one out of the 
 ranks of the suppliants into the lines of the dispensers of 
 charity. She was, all in all, exceedingly happy. 
 
 On the morrow, however, there was nothing in the
 
 SISTER CARRIE 21$ 
 
 papers concerning the event, and, in view of the flow ol 
 common, everyday things about, it now lost a shade of the 
 glow of the previous evening. Drouet himself was not 
 talking so much of as for her. He felt instinctively that, 
 for some reason or other, he needed reconstruction in 
 her regard. 
 
 " I think," he said, as he spruced around their chambers 
 the next morning, preparatory to going down town, 
 " that I'll straighten out that little deal of mine this month 
 and then we'll get married. I was talking with Mosher 
 about that yesterday." 
 
 '' No, you won't," said Carrie, who was coming to feel 
 a certain faint power to jest with the drummer. 
 
 " Yes, I will," he exclaimed, more feelingly than usual, 
 adding, with the tone of one who pleads, " Don't you be- 
 lieve what I've told you ? " 
 
 Carrie laughed a little. 
 
 " Of course I do," she answered. 
 
 Drouet's assurance now misgave him. Shallow as was 
 his mental observation, there was that in the things which 
 had happened which made his little power of analysis use- 
 less. Carrie was still with him, but not helpless and 
 pleading. There was a lilt in her voice which was new. 
 She did not study him with eyes expressive of dependence. 
 The drummer was feeling the shadow of something which 
 was coming. It coloured his feelings and made him de- 
 velop those little attentions and say those little words 
 which were mere forefendations against danger. 
 
 Shortly afterward he departed, and Carrie prepared for 
 her meeting with Hurstwood. She hurried at her toilet, 
 which was soon made, and hastened down the stairs. 
 At the corner she passed Drouet, but they did not see 
 each other. 
 
 The drummer had forgotten some bills which he wished 
 to turn into his house. He hastened up the stairs and
 
 l6 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 burst into the room, but found only the chambermaid, 
 who was cleaning up. 
 
 " Hello," he exclaimed, half to himself, " has Carrie 
 gone ? " 
 
 "Your wife? Yes, she went out just a few minutes 
 ago." 
 
 " That's strange," thought Drouet. " She didn't say a 
 word to me. I wonder where she went ? " 
 
 He hastened about, rummaging in his valise for what he 
 wanted, and finally pocketing it. Then he turned his 
 attention to his fair neighbour, who was good-looking 
 and kindly disposed towards him. 
 
 " What are you up to ? " he said, smiling. 
 
 " Just cleaning," she replied, stopping and winding a 
 dusting towel about her hand. 
 
 "Tired of it?" 
 
 " Not so very." 
 
 " Let me show you something," he said, affably, coming 
 over and taking out of his pocket a little lithographed 
 card which had been issued by a wholesale tobacco com- 
 pany. On this was printed a picture of a pretty girl, hold- 
 ing a striped parasol, the colours of which could be 
 changed by means of a revolving disk in the back, which 
 showed red, yellow, green, and blue through little inter- 
 stices made in the ground occupied by the umbrella 
 top. 
 
 "Isn't that clever?" he said, handing it to her and 
 showing her how it worked. " You never saw anything 
 like that before." 
 
 " Isn't it nice ? " she answered. 
 
 " You can have it if you want it," he remarked. 
 
 " That's a pretty ring you have," he said, touching a 
 commonplace setting which adorned the hand holding the 
 card he had given her. 
 
 " Do you think so? "
 
 SISTER CARRIE 2\J 
 
 " That's right," he answered, making use of a pretence 
 at examination to secure her finger. " That's fine." 
 
 The ice being thus broken, he launched into further ob- 
 servation, pretending to forget that her fingers were still 
 retained by his. She soon withdrew them, however, and 
 retreated a few feet to rest against the window-sill. 
 
 " 1 didn't see you for a long time," she said, coquet- 
 tishly, repulsing one of his exuberant approaches. " You 
 must have been away." 
 
 " I was," said Drouet. 
 
 " Do you travel far ? " 
 
 " Pretty far yes." 
 
 " Do you like it? " 
 
 " Oh, not very well. You get tired of it after a while." 
 
 " I wish I could travel," said the girl, gazing idly out 
 of the window. 
 
 " What has become of your friend, Mr. Hurstwood: ** 
 she suddenly asked, bethinking herself of the manager, 
 who, from her own observation, seemed to contain prom- 
 ising material. 
 
 " He's here in town. What makes you ask about him ? " 
 
 " Oh, nothing, only he hasn't been here since you got 
 back." 
 
 " How did you come to know him ? " 
 
 " Didn't I take up his name a dozen times in the last 
 month ? " 
 
 " Get out," said the drummer, lightly. " He hasn't 
 called more than half a dozen times since we've been 
 here." 
 
 " He hasn't, eh ? " said the girl, smiling. " That's all 
 you know about it." 
 
 Drouet took on a slightly more serious tone. He was 
 uncertain as to whether she was joking or not. 
 
 " Tease," he said, " what makes you smile that way ? " 
 
 " Oh, nothing."
 
 2 1 8 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 " Have you seen him recently?" 
 
 " Not since you came back," she laughed. 
 
 " Before ? " 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 "How often?" 
 
 " Why, nearly every day." 
 
 She was a mischievous newsmonger, and was keenly 
 wondering what the effect of her words would be. 
 
 " Who did he come to see ? " asked the drummer, in- 
 credulously. 
 
 " Mrs. Drouet." 
 
 He looked rather foolish at this answer, and then at- 
 tempted to correct himself so as not to appear a dupe. 
 
 " Well," he said, " what of it? " 
 
 " Nothing," replied the girl, her head cocked coquet- 
 tishly on one side. 
 
 " He's an old friend," he went on, getting deeper into 
 the mire. 
 
 He would have gone on further with his little flirtation, 
 but the taste for it was temporarily removed. He was 
 quite relieved when the girl's name was called from 
 below. 
 
 " I've got to go," she said, moving away from him 
 airily. 
 
 " I'll see you later," he said, with a pretence of dis- 
 turbance at being interrupted. 
 
 When she was gone, he gave freer play to his feelings. 
 His face, never easily controlled by him, expressed all 
 the perplexity and disturbance which he felt. Could it be 
 that Carrie had received so many visits and yet said noth- 
 ing about them? Was Hurstwood lying? What did 
 the chambermaid mean by it, anyway? He had thought 
 there was something odd about Carrie's manner at the 
 time. Why did she look so disturbed when he had asked 
 her how many times Hurstwood had called ? By George !
 
 SISTER CARRIE 219 
 
 he remembered now. There was something strange about 
 the whole thing. 
 
 He sat down in a rocking-chair to think the better, 
 drawing up one leg on his knee and frowning mightily. 
 His mind ran on at a great rate. 
 
 And yet Carrie hadn't acted out of the ordinary. It 
 couldn't be, by George, that she was deceiving him. 
 She hadn't acted that way. Why, even last night she had 
 been as friendly toward him as could be, and Hurstwood 
 too. Look how they acted ! He could hardly believe 
 they would try to deceive him. 
 
 His thoughts burst into words. 
 
 " She did act sort of funny at times. Here she had 
 dressed and gone out this morning and never said a 
 word." 
 
 He scratched his head and prepared to go down town. 
 He was still frowning. As he came into the hall he en- 
 countered the girl, who was now looking after another 
 chamber. She had on a white dusting cap, beneath which 
 her chubby face shone good-naturedly. Drouet almost 
 forgot his worry in the fact that she was smiling on him. 
 His put his hand familiarly on her shoulder, as if only to 
 greet her in passing. 
 
 " Got over being mad ? " she said, still mischievously 
 inclined. 
 
 " I'm not mad," he answered. 
 
 " I thought you were," she said, smiling. 
 
 " Quit your fooling about that," he said, in an offhand 
 way. " Were you serious ? " 
 
 " Certainly," she answered. Then, with an air of one 
 who did not intentionally mean to create trouble, " He 
 came lots of times. I thought you knew." 
 
 The game of deception was up with Drouet. He did 
 not try to simulate indifference further. 
 
 " Did he spend the evenings here ? " he asked.
 
 220 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 " Sometimes. Sometimes they went out." 
 
 " In the evening ? " 
 
 " Yes. You mustn't look so mad, though." 
 
 " I'm not," he said. " Did any one else see him ? " 
 
 " Of course," said the girl, as if, after all, it were noth' 
 ing in particular. 
 
 " How long ago was this ? " 
 
 " Just before you came back." 
 
 The drummer pinched his lip nervously. 
 
 " Don't say anything, will you ? " he asked, giving the 
 girl's arm a gentle squeeze. 
 
 " Certainly not," she returned. " I wouldn't worry 
 over it." 
 
 " All right," he said, passing on, seriously brooding for 
 once, and yet not wholly unconscious of the fact that he 
 was making a most excellent impression upon the cham- 
 bermaid. 
 
 " I'll see her about that," he said to himself, passionately, 
 feeling that he had been unduly wronged. " I'll find out, 
 VGeorge, whether she'll act that way or not."
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 THE LURE OF THE SPIRIT : THE FLESH IN PURSUIT 
 
 When Carrie came Hurstwood had been waiting man) 
 minutes. His blood was warm ; his nerves wrought up. 
 He was anxious to see the woman who had stirred him so 
 profoundly the night before. 
 
 " Here you are," he said, repressedly, feeling a spring 
 in his limbs and an elation which was tragic in itself. 
 . " Yes," said Carrie. 
 
 They walked on as if bound for some objective point, 
 while Hurstwood drank in the radiance of her presence. 
 The rustle of her pretty skirt was like music to him. 
 
 " Are you satisfied ? " he asked, thinking of how well 
 she did the night before. 
 
 " Are you ? " 
 
 He tightened his fingers as he saw the smile she gave 
 him. 
 
 " It was wonderful." 
 
 Carrie laughed ecstatically. 
 
 " That was one of the best things I've seen in a long 
 time," he added. 
 
 He was dwelling on her attractiveness as he had felt 
 it the evening before, and mingling it with the feeling her 
 presence inspired now. 
 
 Carrie was dwelling in the atmosphere which this man 
 created for her. Already she was enlivened and suffused 
 with a glow. She felt his drawing toward her in every 
 sound of his voice.
 
 222 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 " Those were such nice flowers you sent me," she said, 
 after a moment or two. " They were beautiful." 
 
 " Glad you liked them," he answered, simply. 
 
 He was thinking all the time that the subject of his de- 
 sire was being delayed. He was anxious to turn the talk 
 to his own feelings. All was ripe for it. His Carrie was 
 beside him. He wanted to plunge in and expostulate with 
 her, and yet he found himself fishing for words and feeling 
 for a way. 
 
 " You got home all right," he raid, gloomily, of a sud- 
 den, his tone modifying itself to one of self-commisera- 
 tion. 
 
 " Yes," said Carrie, easily. 
 
 He looked at her steadily for a moment, slowing his 
 pace and fixing her with his eye. 
 
 She felt the flood of feeling. 
 
 " How about me? " he asked. 
 
 This confused Carrie considerably, for she realised the 
 floodgates were open. She didn't know exactly what to 
 unswer. 
 
 " I don't know," she answered. 
 
 He took his lower lip between his teeth for a moment, 
 and then let it go. He stopped by the walk side and kicked 
 the grass with his toe. He searched her face with a 
 tender, appealing glance. 
 
 " Won't you come away from him ? " he asked, in- 
 tensely. 
 
 " I don't know," returned Carrie, still illogically drift- 
 ing and finding nothing at which to catch. 
 
 As a matter of fact, she was in a most hopeless quan- 
 dary. Here was a man whom she thoroughly liked, who 
 exercised an influence over her, sufficient almost to delude 
 her into the belief that she was possessed of a lively passion 
 for him. She was still the victim of his keen eyes, his 
 suave manners, his fine clothes. She looked and saw be-
 
 SISTER CARRIE 223 
 
 fore her a man who was most gracious and sympathetic, 
 who leaned toward her with a feeling that was a delight 
 to observe. She could not resist the glow of his tempera- 
 ment, the light of his eye. She could hardly keep from 
 feeling what he felt. 
 
 And yet she was not without thoughts which were dis- 
 turbing. What did he know? What had Drouet told 
 him ? Was she a wife in his eyes, or what ? Would he 
 marry her ? Even while he talked, and she softened, and 
 her eyes were lighted with a tender glow, she was asking 
 herself if Drouet had told him they were not married. 
 There was never anything at all convincing about what 
 Drouet said. 
 
 And yet she was not grieved at Hurstwood's love. No 
 strain of bitterness was in it for her, whatever he knew. 
 He was evidently sincere. His passion was real and 
 warm. There was power in what he said. What should 
 she do? She went on thinking this, answering vaguely, 
 languishing affectionately, and altogether drifting, u*itil 
 she was on a borderless sea of speculation. 
 
 " Why don't you come away ? " he said, tenderly. " I 
 will arrange for you whatever " 
 
 " Oh, don't," said Carrie. 
 
 " Don't what? " he asked. " What do you mean? " 
 
 There was a look of confusion and pain in her face. She 
 was wondering why that miserable thought must be 
 brought in. She was struck as by a blade with the mis- 
 erable provision which was outside the pale of marriage. 
 
 He himself realised that it was a wretched thing to have 
 dragged in. He wanted to weigh the effects of it, and yet 
 he could not see. He went beating on, flushed by her 
 presence, clearly awakened, intensely enlisted in his plan. 
 
 " Won't you come? " he said, beginning over and with 
 a more reverent feeling. " You know I can't do without 
 you you know it it can't go on this way can it? "
 
 224 -SISTER CARRIE 
 
 " I know," said Carrie. 
 
 " I wouldn't ask if I I wouldn't argue with you if 1 
 could help it. Look at me, Carrie. Put yourself in my 
 place. You don't want to stay away from me, do you? " 
 
 She shook her head as if in deep thought. 
 
 " Then why not settle the whole thing, once and for 
 all?" 
 
 " I don't know," said Carrie. 
 
 " Don't know ! Ah, Carrie, what makes you say that ? 
 Don't torment me. Be serious." 
 
 " I am," said Carrie, softly. 
 
 " You can't be, dearest, and say that. Not when you 
 know how I love you. Look at last night." 
 
 His manner as he said this was the most quiet imagi- 
 nable. His face and body retained utter composure. Only 
 h : eyes moved, and they flashed a subtle, dissolving fire. 
 In them the whole intensity of the man's nature was dis- 
 tilling itself. 
 
 Carrie made no answer. 
 
 "How can you act this way, dearest?" he inquired, 
 after a time. " You love me, don't you ? " 
 
 He turned on her such a storm of feeling that she was 
 overwhelmed. For the moment all doubts were cleared 
 away. 
 
 " Yes," she answered, frankly and tenderly. 
 
 " Well, then you'll come, won't you come to-night? " 
 
 Carrie shook her head in spite of her distress. 
 
 " I can't wait any longer," urged Hurstwood. " If 
 that is too soon, come Saturday." 
 
 " When will we be married ? " she asked, diffidently, 
 forgetting in her difficult situation that she had hoped he 
 took her to be Drouet's wife. 
 
 The manager started, hit as he was by a problem 
 which was more difficult than hers. He gave no sign of 
 the thoughts that flashed like messages to his mind.
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 22$ 
 
 '' Any time you say," he said, with ease, refusing to 
 discolour his present delight with this miserable problem. 
 
 " Saturday? " asked Carrie. 
 
 He nodded his head. 
 
 " Well, if you will marry me then," she said, " I'll 
 go." 
 
 1'he manager looked at his lovely prize, so beautiful, so 
 winsome, so difficult to be won, and made strange resolu- 
 tions. His passion had gotten to that stage now where it 
 was no longer coloured with reason. He did not trouble 
 over little barriers of this sort in the face of so much love- 
 liness. He would accept the situation with all its diffi- 
 culties ; he would not try to answer the objections which 
 cold truth thrust upon him. He would promise any- 
 thing, everything, and trust to fortune to disentangle him. 
 He would make a try for Paradise, whatever might be the 
 result. He would be happy, by the Lord, if it cost all 
 honesty of statement, all abandonment of truth. 
 
 Carrie looked at him tenderly. She could have laid 
 her head upon his shoulder, so delightful did it all seem. 
 
 " Well," she said, " I'll try and get ready then." 
 
 Hurstwood looked into her pretty face, crossed with 
 little shadows of wonder and misgiving, and thought he 
 had never seen anything more lovely. 
 
 " I'll see you again to-morrow," he said, joyously, " and 
 we'll talk over the plans." 
 
 He walked on with her, elated beyond words, so de- 
 lightful had been the result. He impressed a long story 
 of joy and affection upon her, though there was but here 
 and there a word. After a half-hour he began to realise 
 that the meeting must come to an end, so exacting is 
 the world. 
 
 " To-morrow," he said at parting, a gayety of manner 
 adding wonderfully to his brave demeanour. 
 
 " Yes," said Carrie, tripping elatedly away.
 
 126 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 There had been so much enthusiasm engendered that 
 she was believing herself deeply in love. She sighed as 
 she thought of her handsome adorer. Yes, she would 
 get ready by Saturday. She would go, and they would 
 be happy.
 
 CHAPTER XXll 
 
 THE BLAZE OF THE TINDER: FLESH WARS WITH THE FLESH 
 
 The misfortune of the Hurstwood household was due 
 to the fact that jealousy, having been born of love, did not 
 perish with it. Mrs. Hurstwood retained this in such form 
 that subsequent influences could transform it into hate. 
 Hurstwood was still worthy, in a physical sense, of the 
 affection his wife had once bestowed upon him, but in a 
 social sense he fell short. With his regard died his power 
 to be attentive to her, and this, to a woman, is much 
 greater than outright crime toward another. Our self- 
 love dictates our appreciation of the good or evil in 
 another. In Mrs. Hurstwood it discoloured the very hue 
 of her husband's indifferent nature. She saw design in 
 deeds and phrases which sprung only from a faded ap- 
 preciation of her presence. 
 
 As a consequence, she was resentful and suspicious. 
 The jealousy that prompted her to observe every falling 
 away from the little amenities of the married relation on 
 his part served to give her notice of the airy grace with 
 which he still took the world. She could see from the 
 scrupulous care which he exercised in the matter of his 
 personal appearance that his interest in life had abated not 
 a jot. Every motion, every glance had something in it of 
 the pleasure he felt in Carrie, of the zest this new pursuit 
 of pleasure lent to his days. Mrs. Hurstwood felt some- 
 thing, sniffing change, as animals do danger, afar off. 
 
 This feeling was strengthened by actions of a direct 
 and more potent nature on the part of Hurstwood. We
 
 228 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 have seen with what irritation he shirked those little duties 
 which no longer contained any amusement or satisfaction 
 for him, and the open snarls with which, more recently, 
 he resented her irritating goads. These little rows were 
 really precipitated by an atmosphere which was sur- 
 charged with dissension. That it would shower, with a 
 sky so full of blackening thunder-clouds, would scarcer)' 
 be thought worthy of comment. Thus, after leaving the 
 breakfast table this morning, raging inwardly at his blank 
 declaration of indifference at her plans, Mrs. Hurstwood 
 encountered Jessica in her dressing-room, very leisurely 
 arranging her hair. Hurstwood had already left the 
 house. 
 
 " I wish you wouldn't be so late coming down to break- 
 fast," she said, addressing Jessica, while making for her 
 crochet basket. " Now here the things are quite cold, 
 and you haven't eaten." 
 
 Her natural composure was sadly ruffled, and Jessica 
 was doomed to feel the fag end of the storm. 
 
 " I'm not hungry," she answered. 
 
 " Then why don't you say so, and let the girl put away 
 the things, instead of keeping her waiting all morning? " 
 
 " She doesn't mind," answered Jessica, coolly. 
 
 " Well, I do, if she doesn't," returned the mother, " and, 
 anyhow, I don't like you to talk that way to me. You're 
 too young to put on such an air with your mother." 
 
 " Oh, mamma, don't row," answered Jessica. " What's 
 the matter this morning, anyway? " 
 
 " Nothing's the matter, and I'm not rowing. You 
 mustn't think because I indulge you in some things that 
 you can keep everybody waiting. I won't have it." 
 
 " I'm not keeping anybody waiting," returned Jessica, 
 sharply, stirred out of a cynical indifference to a sharp 
 defence. " I said I wasn't hungry. I don't want any 
 .breakfast"
 
 SISTER CARRIE 229 
 
 " Mind how you address me, missy. I'll not have it. 
 Hear me now ; I'll not have it ! " 
 
 Jessica heard this last while walking out of the room, 
 with a toss of 'her head and a flick of her pretty skirts in- 
 dicative of the independence and indifference she felt. 
 She did not propose to be quarrelled with. 
 
 Such little arguments were all too frequent, the result 
 of a growth of natures which were largely independent 
 and selfish. George, Jr., manifested even greater touchi- 
 ness and exaggeration in the matter of his individual 
 rights, and attempted to make all feel that he was a man 
 with a man's privileges an assumption which, of all 
 things, is most groundless and pointless in a youth of 
 nineteen. 
 
 Hurstwood was a man of authority and some fine feel- 
 ing, and it irritated him excessively to find himself sur- 
 rounded more and more by a world upon which he had 
 no hold, and of which he had a lessening understanding. 
 
 Now, when such little things, such as the proposed 
 earlier start to Waukesha, came up, they made clear to 
 him his position. He was being made to follow, was not 
 leading. When, in addition, a sharp temper was. mani- 
 fested, and to the process of shouldering him out of 
 his authority was added a rousing intellectual kick, 
 such as a sneer or a cynical laugh, he was unable to keep 
 his temper. He flew into hardly repressed passion, and 
 wished himself clear of the whole household. It seemed a 
 most irritating drag upon all his desires and opportunities. 
 
 For all this, he still retained the semblance of leader- 
 ship and control, even though his wife was straining to 
 revolt. Her display of temper and open assertion of op- 
 position were based upon nothing more than the feeling 
 that she could do it. She had no special evidence where- 
 with to justify herself the knowledge of something which 
 would give her both authority and excuse. The latter was
 
 2 3 o SISTER CARRIE 
 
 all that was lacking, however, to give a solid foundation 
 to what, in a way, seemed groundless discontent. The 
 clear proof of one overt deed was the cold breath needed 
 to convert the lowering clouds of suspicion into a rain of 
 wrath. 
 
 An inkling of untoward deeds on the part of Hurst- 
 wood had come. Doctor Beale, the handsome resident 
 physician of the neighbourhood, met Mrs. Hurstwood at 
 her own doorstep some days after Hurstwood and Carrie 
 had taken the drive west on Washington Boulevard. Dr. 
 Beale, coming east on the same drive, had recognised 
 Hurstwood, but not before he was quite past him. He 
 was not so sure of Carrie did not know whether it was 
 Hurstwood's wife or daughter. 
 
 " You don't speak to your friends when you meet them 
 out driving, do you ? " he said, jocosely, to Mrs. Hurst- 
 wood. 
 
 " If I see them, I do. Where was I ? " 
 
 " On Washington Boulevard," he answered, expecting 
 her eye to light with immediate remembrance. 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 " Yes, out near Hoyne Avenue. You were with your 
 husband." 
 
 " I guess you're mistaken," she answered. Then, re- 
 membering her husband's part in the affair, she immedi- 
 ately fell a prey to a host of young suspicions, of which, 
 however, she gave no sign. 
 
 " I know I saw your husband," he went on. " I wasn't 
 so sure about you. Perhaps it was your daughter." 
 
 " Perhaps it was," said Mrs. Hurstwood, knowing full 
 well that such was not the case, as Jessica had been her 
 companion for weeks. She had recovered herself suf- 
 ficiently to wish to know more of the details. 
 
 " Was it in the afternoon ? " she asked, artfully, assum- 
 ing an air of acquaintanceship with the matter.
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 231 
 
 " Yes, about two or three." 
 
 " It must have been Jessica," said Mrs. Hurstwood, not 
 wishing to seem to attach any importance to the incident. 
 
 The physician had a thought or two of his own, but 
 dismissed the matter as worthy of no further discussion 
 on his part at least. 
 
 Mrs. Hurstwood gave this bit of information consider- 
 able thought during the next few hours, and even days. 
 She took it for granted that the doctor had really seen hef 
 husband, and that he had been riding, most likely, with 
 some other woman, after announcing himself as busy to 
 her. As a consequence, she recalled, with rising feeling, 
 how often he had refused to go to places with her, to share 
 in little visits, or, indeed, take part in any of the social 
 amenities which furnished the diversion of her existence. 
 He had been seen at the theatre with people whom he 
 called Moy's friends ; now he was seen driving, and, most 
 likely, would have an excuse for that. Perhaps there 
 were others of whom she did not hear, or why should he 
 be so busy, so indifferent, of late? In the last six weeks 
 he had become strangely irritable strangely satisfied to 
 pick up and go out, whether things were right or wrong 
 in the house. Why? 
 
 She recalled, with more subtle emotions, that he did not 
 look at her now with any of the old light of satisfaction or 
 approval in his eye. Evidently, along with other things, 
 he was taking her to be getting old and uninteresting. 
 He saw her wrinkles, perhaps. She was fading, while he 
 was still preening himself in his elegance and youth. He 
 was still an interested factor in the merry-makings of the 
 world, while she but she did not pursue the thought. 
 She only found the whole situation bitter, and hated him 
 for it thoroughly. 
 
 Nothing came of this incident at the time, for the truth 
 is it did not seem conclusive enough to warrant any dis-
 
 232 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 cussion. Only the atmosphere of distrust and ill-feeling 
 was strengthened, precipitating every now and then 
 little sprinklings of irritable conversation, enlivened by 
 flashes of wrath. The matter of the Waukesha outing was 
 merely a continuation of other things of the same nature. 
 
 The day after Carrie's appearance on the Avery stage, 
 Mrs. Hurstwood visited the races with Jessica and a youth 
 of her acquaintance, Mr. Bart Taylor, the son of the owner 
 of a local house-furnishing establishment. They had 
 driven out early, and, as it chanced, encountered several 
 friends of Hurstwood, all Elks, and two of whom had at- 
 tended the performance the evening before. A thousand 
 chances the subject of the performance had never been 
 brought up had Jessica not been so engaged by the atten- 
 tions of her young companion, who usurped as much time 
 as possible. This left Mrs. Hurstwood in the mood to 
 extend the perfunctory greetings of some who knew her 
 into short conversations, and the short conversations of 
 friends into long ones. It was from one who meant but 
 to greet her perfunctorily that this interesting intelligence 
 came. 
 
 " I see," said this individual, who wore sporting clothes 
 pf the most attractive pattern, and had a field-glass strung 
 over his shoulder, " that you did not get over to our little 
 entertainment last evening." 
 
 " No ? " said Mrs. Hurstwood, inquiringly, and wonder- 
 ing why he should be using the tone he did in noting the 
 fact that she had not been to something she knew nothing 
 about. It was on her lips to say, " What was it ? " when he 
 added, " I saw your husband." 
 
 Her wonder was at once replaced by the more subtle 
 quality of suspicion. 
 
 " Yes," she said, cautiously, " was it pleasant ? He did 
 not tell me much about it." 
 
 "Very. Really one of the best private theatricals I
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 233 
 
 ever attended. There was one actress who surprised us 
 all." 
 
 " Indeed," said Mrs. Hurstwood. 
 
 " It's too bad you couldn't have been there, really. I 
 was sorry to hear you weren't feeling well." 
 
 Feeling- well ! Mrs. Hurstwood could have echoed the 
 words after him open-mouthed. As it was, she extricated 
 herself from her mingled impulse to deny and question, 
 and said, almost raspingly : 
 
 " Yes, it is too bad." 
 
 " Looks like there will be quite a crowd here to-day, 
 doesn't it ? " the acquaintance observed, drifting off upon 
 another topic. 
 
 The manager's wife would have questioned farther, 
 but she saw no opportunity. She was for the moment 
 wholly at sea, anxious to think for herself, and wondering 
 what new deception was this which caused him to give 
 out that she was ill when she was not. Another case of her 
 company not wanted, and excuses being made. She re- 
 solved to find out more. 
 
 " Were you at the performance last evening ? " she 
 asked of the next of Hurstwood's friends who greeted her, 
 as she sat in her box. 
 
 " Yes. You didn't get around." 
 
 " No," she answered, " I was not feeling very well." 
 
 " So your husband told me," he answered. " Well, it 
 was really very enjoyable. Turned out much better than I 
 expected." 
 
 " Were there many there ? " 
 
 " The house was full. It was quite an Elk night. 1 
 saw quite a number of your friends Mrs. Harrison, Mrs, 
 Barnes, Mrs. Collins." 
 
 " Quite a social gathering." 
 
 " Indeed it was. My wife enjoyed it very much." 
 
 Mrs. Hurstwood bit her lip.
 
 234 
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 "So," she thought, "that's the way he does. Tells 
 my friends I am sick and cannot come." 
 
 She wondered what could induce him to go alone. 
 There was something back of this. She rummaged her 
 brain for a reason. 
 
 By evening, when Hurstwood reached home, she had 
 brooded herself into a state of sullen desire for explanation 
 and revenge. She wanted to know what this peculiar ac- 
 tion of his imported. She was certain there was more 
 behind it all than what she had heard, and evil curiosity 
 mingled well with distrust and the remnants of her wrath 
 of the morning. She, impending disaster itself, walked 
 about with gathered shadow at the eyes and the rudi- 
 mentary muscles of savagery fixing the hard lines of her 
 mouth. 
 
 On the other hand, as we may well believe, the man- 
 ager came home in the sunniest mood. His conversa- 
 tion and agreement with Carrie had raised his spirits until 
 he was in the frame of mind of one who sings joyously. 
 He was proud of himself, proud of his success, proud of 
 Carrie. He could have been genial to all the world, and 
 he bore no grudge against his wife. He meant to be pleas- 
 ant, to forget her presence, to live in the atmosphere of 
 youth and pleasure which had been restored to him. 
 
 So now, the house, to his mind, had a most pleasing and 
 comfortable appearance. In the hall he found an evening 
 paper, laid there by the maid and forgotten by Mrs. Hurst- 
 wood. In the dining-room the table was clean laid with 
 linen and napery and shiny with glasses and decorated 
 china. Through an open door he saw into the kitchen, 
 where the fire was crackling in the stove and the evening 
 meal already well under way. Out in the small back yard 
 was George, Jr., frolicking with a young dog he had re- 
 cently purchased, and in the parlour Jessica was playing at 
 the piano, the sounds of a merry waltz filling every nook
 
 SISTER CARRIE 235 
 
 and corner of the comfortable home. Every one, like him- 
 self, seemed to have regained his good spirits, to be in 
 sympathy with youth and beauty, to be inclined to joy and 
 merry-making. He felt as if he could say a good word all 
 around himself, and took a most genial glance at the 
 spread table and polished sideboard before going upstairs 
 to read his paper in the comfortable arm-chair of the 
 sitting-room which looked through the open window* 
 into the street. When he entered there, however, ho 
 found his wife brushing her hair and musing to herself 
 the while. 
 
 He came lightly in, thinking to smooth over any feeling 
 that might still exist by a kindly word and a ready prom- 
 ise, but Mrs. Hurstwood said nothing. He seated himself 
 in the large chair, stirred lightly in making himself com- 
 fortable, opened his paper, and began to read. In a few 
 moments he was smiling merrily over a very comical ac- 
 count of a baseball game which had taken place between 
 the Chicago and Detroit teams. 
 
 The while he was doing this Mrs. Hurstwood was ob- 
 serving him casually through the medium of the mirror 
 which was before her. She noticed his pleasant and con- 
 tented manner, his airy grace and smiling humour, and it 
 merely aggravated her the more. She wondered how he 
 could think to carry himself so in her presence after the 
 cynicism, indifference, and neglect he had heretofore 
 manifested and would continue to manifest so long as she 
 would endure it. She thought how she should like to teU 
 him what stress and emphasis she would lend her asser- 
 tions, how she should drive over this whole affair until 
 satisfaction should be rendered her. Indeed, the shining 
 sword of her wrath was but weakly suspended by a thread 
 of thought. 
 
 In the meanwhile Hurstwood encountered a humor- 
 ous item concerning a stranger who had arrived in the
 
 436 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 city and became entangled with a bunco-steerer. It 
 amused him immensely, and at last he stirred and chuckled 
 to himself. He wished that he might enlist his wife's at- 
 tention and read it to her. 
 
 " Ha, ha," he exclaimed softly, as if to himself, " that's 
 funny." 
 
 Mrs. Hurstwood kept on arranging her hair, not so 
 much as deigning a glance. 
 
 He stirred again and went on to another subject. At 
 last he felt as if his good-humour must find some outlet. 
 Julia was probably still out of humour over that affair of 
 this morning, but that could easily be straightened. As a 
 matter of fact, she was in the wrong, but he didn't care. 
 She could go to Waukesha right away if she wanted to. 
 The sooner the better. He would tell her that as soon as 
 he got a chance, and the whole thing would blow over. 
 
 " Did you notice," he said, at last, breaking forth con- 
 cerning another item which he had found, " that they have 
 entered suit to compel the Illinois Central to get off the 
 lake front, Julia? " he asked. 
 
 She could scarcely force herself to answer, but man- 
 Uged to say " No," sharply. 
 
 Hurstwood pricked up his ears. There was a note in 
 her voice which vibrated keenly. 
 
 " It would be a good thing if they did," he went on, 
 half to himself, half to her, though he felt that something 
 was anrifcs in that quarter. He withdrew his attention to 
 his paper very circumspectly, listening mentally for the 
 little sounds which should show him what was on 
 foot. 
 
 As a matter of fact, no man as clever as Hurstwood * 
 as observant and sensitive to atmospheres of many sorts, 
 particularly upon his own plane of thought would have 
 made the mistake which he did in regard to his wife, 
 wrought up as she was, had he not been occupied men-
 
 SISTER CARRIE 2tf 
 
 tally with a very different train of thought. Had not the 
 influence of Carrie's regard for him, the elation which her 
 promise aroused in him, lasted over, he would not 
 have seen the house in so pleasant a mood. It was not 
 extraordinarily bright and merry this evening. He was 
 merely very much mistaken, and would have been much 
 more fitted to cope with it had he come home in his nor- 
 mal state. 
 
 After he had studied his paper a few moments longer, 
 he felt that he ought to modify matters in some way or 
 other. Evidently his wife was not going to patch up peace 
 at a word. So he said : 
 
 " Where did George get the dog he has there in th 
 yard ? " 
 
 " I don't know," she snapped. 
 
 He put his paper down on his knees and gazed idly out 
 of the window. He did not propose to lose his temper, 
 but merely to be persistent and agreeable, and by a few 
 questions bring around a mild understanding of some 
 sort. 
 
 " Why do you feel so bad about that affair of this morn- 
 ing? " he said, at last. " We needn't quarrel about that. 
 You know you can go to Waukesha if you want to." 
 
 " So you can stay here and trifle around with some one 
 else ? " she exclaimed, turning to him a determined coun- 
 tenance upon which was drawn a sharp and wrathful 
 sneer. 
 
 He stopped as if slapped in the face. In an instant his 
 persuasive, conciliatory manner fled. He was on the de- 
 fensive at a wink and puzzled for a word to reply. 
 
 "What do you mean?" he said at last, straightening 
 himself and gazing at the cold, determined figure before 
 him, who paid no attention, but went on arranging herself 
 before the mirror. 
 
 " You know what I mean," she said, finally, as if there
 
 238 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 were a world of information which she held in reserve 
 which she did not need to tell. 
 
 " Well, I don't," he said, stubbornly, yet nervous and 
 alert for what should come next. The finality of the 
 woman's manner took away his feeling of superiority in 
 battle. 
 
 She made no answer. 
 
 " Hmph ! " he murmured, with a movement of his head 
 to one side. It was the weakest thing he had ever done. 
 It was totally unassured. 
 
 Mrs. Hurstwood noticed the lack of colour in it. She 
 turned upon him, animal-like, able to strike an effectual 
 second blow. 
 
 " I want the Waukesha money to-morrow morning," 
 she said. 
 
 He looked at her in amazement. Never before had he 
 seen such a cold, steely determination in her eye such a 
 cruel look of indifference. She seemed a thorough master 
 of her mood thoroughly confident and determined to 
 wrest all control from him. He felt that all his resources 
 could not defend him. He must attack. 
 
 " What do you mean ? " he said, jumping up. " You 
 want ! I'd like to know what's got into you to-night." 
 
 " Nothing's got into me," she said, flaming. " I want 
 that money. You can do your swaggering afterwards." 
 
 " Swaggering, eh ! What ! You'll get nothing from 
 me. What do you mean by your insinuations, anyhow? '" 
 
 "Where were you last night?" she answered. The 
 words were hot as they came. " Who were you driving 
 with on Washington Boulevard ? Who were you with at 
 the theatre when George saw you? Do you think I'm a 
 fool to be duped by you? Do you think I'll sit at home 
 here and take your ' too busys ' and ' can't come,' while 
 you parade around and make out that I'm unable to come ? 
 I want you to know that lordly airs have come to an end
 
 SISTER CARRIE 239 
 
 so far as I am concerned. You can't dictate to me nor 
 my children. I'm through with you entirely." 
 
 " It's a lie," he said, driven to a corner and knowing no 
 other excuse. 
 
 " Lie, eh ! " she said, fiercely, but with returning re- 
 serve ; " you may call it a lie if you want to, but I know." 
 
 " It's a lie, I tell you," he said, in a low, sharp voice. 
 " You've been searching around for some cheap accusa- 
 tion for months, and now you think you have it. You 
 think you'll spring something and get the upper hand. 
 Well, I tell you, you can't. As long as I'm in this house 
 I'm master of it, and you or any one else won't dictate to 
 me do you hear ? " 
 
 He crept toward her with a light in his eye that was 
 ominous. Something in the woman's cool, cynical, up- 
 per-handish manner, as if she were already master, caused 
 him to feel for the moment as if he could strangle her. 
 
 She gazed at him a pythoness in humour. 
 
 " I'm not dictating to you," she returned ; " I'm tell- 
 ing you what I want." 
 
 The answer was so cool, so rich in bravado, that some- 
 how it took the wind out of his sails. He could not attack 
 her, he could not ask her for proofs. Somehow he felt evi- 
 dence, law, the remembrance of all his property which she 
 held in her name, to be shining in her glance. He was 
 like a vessel, powerful and dangerous, but rolling and 
 floundering without sail. 
 
 " And I'm telling you," he said in the end, slightly 
 recovering himself, " what you'll not get." 
 
 " We'll see about it," she said. " I'll find out what my 
 rights are. Perhaps you'll talk to a lawyer, if you won't 
 to me." 
 
 It was a magnificent play, and had its effect. Hurst- 
 wood fell back beaten. He knew now that he had more 
 than mere bluff to contend with. He felt that he was face
 
 2 4 
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 to face with a dull proposition. What to say he hardly 
 knew. All the merriment had gone out of the day. He 
 was disturbed, wretched, resentful. What should he do? 
 " Do as you please," he said, at last. " I'll have nothing 
 more to do with you," and out he strode.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 A SPIRIT IN TRAVAIL : ONE RUNG PUT BEHIND 
 
 When Carrie reached her own room she had already 
 fallen a prey to those doubts and misgivings which are 
 ever the result of a lack of decision She could not per- 
 suade herself as to the advisability of her promise, or that 
 now, having given her word, she ought to keep it. She 
 went over the whole ground in Hurstwood's absence, and 
 discovered little objections that had not occurred to her 
 in the warmth of the manager's argument. She saw 
 where she had put herself in a peculiar light, namely, that 
 of agreeing to marry when she was already supposedly 
 married. She remembered a few things Drouet had done, 
 and now that it came to walking away from him without 
 a word, she felt as if she were doing wrong. Now, she 
 was comfortably situated, and to one who is more or less 
 afraid of the world, this is an urgent matter, and one which 
 puts up strange, uncanny arguments. " You do not 
 know what will come. There are miserable things out- 
 side. People go a-begging. Women are wretched. You 
 never can tell what will happen. Remember the time you 
 were hungry. Stick to what you have." 
 
 Curiously, for all her leaning towards Hurstwood, he 
 had not taken a firm hold on her understanding. She was 
 listening, smiling, approving, and yet not finally agreeing. 
 This was due to a lack of power on his part, a lack of that 
 majesty of passion that sweeps the mind from its seat, 
 fuses and melts all arguments and theories into a tangled 
 mass, and destroys for the time being the reasoning 
 
 16
 
 242 
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 power. This majesty of passion is possessed by nearly 
 every man once in his life, but it is usually an attribute of 
 youth and conduces to the first successful mating. 
 
 Hurstwood, being an older man, could scarcely be said 
 to retain the fire of youth, though he did possess a pas- 
 sion warm and unreasoning. It was strong enough to 
 induce the leaning toward him which, on Carrie's part, 
 we have seen. She might have been said to be imagining 
 herself in love, when she was not. Women frequently do 
 this. It flows from the fact that in each exists a bias to- 
 ward affection, a craving for the pleasure of being loved. 
 The longing to be shielded, bettered, sympathised with, 
 is one of the attributes of the sex. This, coupled with 
 sentiment and a natural tendency to emotion, often makes 
 refusing difficult. It persuades them that they are in love. 
 
 Once at home, she changed her clothes and straight- 
 ened the rooms for herself. In the matter of the arrange- 
 ment of the furniture she never took the house-maid's 
 ppinion. That young woman invariably put one of the 
 rocking-chairs in the corner, and Carrie as regularly 
 moved it out. To-day she hardly noticed that it was in 
 the wrong place, so absorbed was she in her own thoughts. 
 She worked about the room until Drouet put in appear- 
 ance at five o'clock. The drummer was flushed and ex- 
 cited and full of determination to know all about her rela- 
 tions with Hurstwood. Nevertheless, after going over 
 the subject in his mind the livelong day, he was rather 
 weary of it and wished it over with. He did not foresee 
 serious consequences of any sort, and yet he rather hesi- 
 tated to begin. Carrie was sitting by the window when 
 he came in, rocking and looking out. 
 
 " Well," she said innocently, weary of her own mental 
 discussion and wondering at his haste and ill-concealed 
 excitement, " what makes you hurry so? " 
 
 Drouet hesitated, now that he was in her presence, un-
 
 SISTER CARRIE 243 
 
 certain as to what course to pursue. He was no diplomat. 
 He could neither read nor see. 
 
 " When did you get home? " he asked foolishly. 
 
 " Oh, an hour or so ago. What makes you ask that? " 
 
 " You weren't here," he said, " when I came Back this 
 morning, and I thought you had gone out." 
 
 " So I did," said Carrie simply. " I went for a walk." 
 
 Drouet looked at her wonderingly. For all his lack 
 of dignity in such matters he did not know how to begin. 
 He stared at her in the most flagrant manner until at last 
 she said: 
 
 " What makes you stare at me so? What's the matter?" 
 
 " Nothing," he answered. " I was just thinking." 
 
 " Just thinking what? " she returned smilingly, puzzled 
 by his attitude. 
 
 " Oh, nothing nothing much." 
 
 " Well, then, what makes you look so? " 
 
 Drouet was standing by the dresser, gazing at her in a 
 comic manner. He had laid off his hat and gloves and 
 was now fidgeting with the little toilet pieces which were 
 nearest him. He hesitated to believe that the pretty 
 woman before him was involved in anything so unsatis- 
 factory to himself. He was very much inclined to feel 
 that it was all right, after all. Yet the knowledge im- 
 parted to him by the chambermaid was rankling in his 
 mind. He wanted to plunge in with a straight remark of 
 some sort, but he knew not what. 
 
 " Where did you go this morning? " he finally asked 
 weakly. 
 
 " Why, I went for a walk," said Carrie. 
 
 " Sure you did? " he asked. 
 
 " Yes, what makes you ask? " 
 
 She was beginning to see now that he knew something. 
 Instantly she drew herself into a more reserved posi- 
 tion. Her cheeks blanched slightly.
 
 244 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 " I thought maybe you didn't," he said, beating about 
 the bush in the most useless manner. 
 
 Carrie gazed at him, and as she did so her ebbing cour- 
 age halted. She saw that he himself was hesitating, and 
 with a woman's intuition realised that there was no occa- 
 sion for great alarm. 
 
 " What makes you talk like that? " she asked, wrinkling 
 her pretty forehead. " You act so funny to-night." 
 
 " I feel funny," he answered. 
 
 They looked at one another for a moment, and then 
 Drouet plunged desperately into his subject. 
 
 " What's this about you and Hurstwood? " he asked. 
 
 " Me and Hurstwood what do you mean? " 
 
 " Didn't he come here a dozen times while I was 
 away ? " 
 
 " A dozen times," repeated Carrie, guiltily. " No, but 
 what do you mean?" 
 
 " Somebody said that you went out riding with him and 
 that he came here every night." 
 
 " No such thing," answered Carrie. " It isn't true. 
 Who told you that? " 
 
 She was flushing scarlet to the roots of her hair, but 
 Drouet did not catch the full hue of her face, owing to the 
 modified light of the room. He was regaining much con- 
 fidence as Carrie defended herself with denials. 
 
 " Well, some one," he said. " You're sure you didn't? " 
 
 " Certainly," said Carrie. " You know how often he 
 came." 
 
 Drouet paused for a moment and thought. 
 
 " I know what you told me," he said finally. 
 
 He moved nervously about, while Carrie looked at him 
 confusedly. 
 
 " Well, I know that I didn't tell you any such thing as 
 that," said Carrie, recovering herself. 
 
 " If I were you," went on Drouet, ignoring her last
 
 SISTER CARRIE 245 
 
 remark, " I wouldn't have anything to do with him. He's 
 a married man, you know." 
 
 " Who who is? " said Carrie, stumbling at the word. 
 
 " Why, Hurstwood," said Drouet, noting the effect and 
 feeling that he was delivering a telling blow. 
 
 " Hurstwood! " exclaimed Carrie, rising. Her face had 
 changed several shades since this announcement was 
 made. She looked within and without herself in a half- 
 dazed way. 
 
 "Who told you this?" she asked, forgetting that her 
 interest was out of order and exceedingly incriminating. 
 
 " Why, I know it. I've always known it," said Drouet. 
 
 Carrie was feeling about for a right thought. She was 
 making a most miserable showing, and yet feelings were 
 generating within her which were anything but crumbling 
 cowardice. 
 
 " I thought I told you," he added. 
 
 " No, you didn't," she contradicted, suddenly recover- 
 ing her voice. " You didn't do anything of the kind." 
 
 Drouet listened to her in astonishment. This was 
 something new. 
 
 " I thought I did," he said. 
 
 Carrie looked around her very solemnly, and then went 
 over to the window. 
 
 " You oughtn't to have had anything to do with him," 
 said Drouet in an injured tone, " after all I've done for 
 you." 
 
 " You," said Carrie, "you! What have you done for 
 me? " 
 
 Her little brain had been surging with contradictory 
 feelings shame at exposure, shame at Hurstwood's 
 perfidy, anger at Drouet's deception, the mockery he 
 had made of her. Now one clear idea came into her 
 head. He was at fault. There was no doubt about it. 
 Why did he bring Hurstwood out Hurstwood, a mar-
 
 246 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 ried man, and never say a word to her? Never mind 
 now about Hurstwood's perfidy why had he done this ? 
 Why hadn't he warned her? There he stood now, guilty 
 of this miserable breach of confidence and talking about 
 what he had done for her ! 
 
 " Well, I like that," exclaimed Drouet, little realising 
 the fire his remark had generated. " I think I've done a 
 good deal." 
 
 "You have, eh?" she answered. "You've deceived 
 me that's what you've done. You've brought your old 
 friends out here under false pretences. You've made me 
 out to be Oh," and with this her voice broke and she 
 pressed her two little hands together tragically. 
 
 " I don't see what that's got to do with it," said the 
 drummer quaintly. 
 
 " No," she answered, recovering herself and shutting 
 her teeth. " No, of course you don't see. There 
 isn't anything you see. You couldn't have told me in the 
 first place, could you? You had to make me out wrong 
 until it was too late. Now you come sneaking around 
 ivith your information and your talk about what you have 
 done." 
 
 Drouet had never suspected this side of Carrie's nature. 
 She was alive with feeling, her eyes snapping, her lips 
 quivering, her whole body sensible of the injury she felt, 
 and partaking of her wrath. 
 
 "Who's sneaking?" he asked, mildly conscious of 
 error on his part, but certain that he was wronged. 
 
 " You are," stamped Carrie. " You're a horrid, con- 
 ceited coward, that's what you are. If you had any sense 
 of manhood in you, you wouldn't have thought of doing 
 any such thing." 
 
 The drummer stared. 
 
 " I'm not a coward," he said. " What do you mean 
 by going with other men, anyway? "
 
 SISTER CARRIE 247 
 
 " Other men! " exclaimed Carrie. " Other men you 
 know better than that. I did go with Mr. Hurstwood, 
 but whose fault was it? Didn't you bring him here? 
 You told him yourself that he should come out here and 
 take me out. Now, after it's all over, you come and tell 
 me that I oughtn't to go with him and that he's a married 
 man." 
 
 She paused at the sound of the last two words and 
 wrung her hands. The knowledge of Hurstwood's perfidy 
 wounded her like a knife. 
 
 " Oh," she sobbed, repressing herself wonderfully and 
 keeping her eyes dry. " Oh, oh! " 
 
 " Well, I didn't think you'd be running around with 
 him when I was away," insisted Drouet. 
 
 " Didn't think! " said Carrie, now angered to the core 
 by the man's peculiar attitude. " Of course not. You 
 thought only of what would be to your satisfaction. 5fou 
 thought you'd make a toy of me a plaything. Well, I'll 
 show you that you won't. I'll have nothing more to do 
 with you at all. You can take your old things and keep 
 them," and unfastening a little pin he had given her, she 
 flung it vigorously upon the floor and began to move 
 about as if to gather up the things which belonged to her. 
 
 By this Drouet was not only irritated but fascinated the 
 more. He looked at her in amazement, and finally said : 
 
 " I don't see where your wrath comes in. I've got the 
 right of this thing. You oughtn't to have done anything 
 that wasn't right after all I did for you." 
 
 " What have you done for me? " asked Carrie blazing, 
 her head thrown back and her lips parted. 
 
 " I think I've done a good deal," said the drummer, 
 looking around. " I've given you all the clothes you 
 wanted, haven't I? I've taken you everywhere you 
 wanted to go. You've had as much as I've had, and more
 
 248 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 Carrie was not ungrateful, whatever else might be said 
 of her. In so far as her mind could construe, she acknowl- 
 edged benefits received. She hardly knew how to answer 
 this, and yet her wrath was not placated. She felt that the 
 drummer had injured her irreparably. 
 
 " Did I ask you to? " she returned. 
 
 " Well, I did it," said Drouet, " and you took it." 
 
 " You talk as though I had persuaded you," answered 
 Carrie. " You stand there and throw up what you've 
 done. I don't want your old things. I'll not have them. 
 You take them to-night and do what you please with 
 them. I'll not stay here another minute." 
 
 "That's nice!'' he answered, becoming angered now 
 at the sense of his own approaching loss. " Ue every- 
 thing and abuse me and then walk off. That's just like a 
 woman. I take you when you haven't got anything, and 
 then when some one else comes along, why I'm no good. 
 I always thought it'd come out that way." 
 
 He felt really hurt as he thought of his treatment, and 
 looked as if he saw no way of obtaining justice. 
 
 " It's not so," said Carrie, " and I'm not going with 
 anybody else. You have been as miserable and incon- 
 siderate as you can be. I hate you, I tell you, and I 
 wouldn't live with you another minute. You're a big, 
 insulting " here she hesitated and used no word at all 
 " or you wouldn't talk that way." 
 
 She had secured her hat and jacket and slipped the lat- 
 ter on over her little evening dress. Some wisps of wavy 
 hair had loosened from the bands at the side of her head 
 and were straggling over her hot, red cheeks. She was 
 angry, mortified, grief-stricken. Her large eyes were full 
 of the anguish of tears, but her lids were not yet wet. She 
 ffas distracted and uncertain, deciding and doing things 
 without an aim or conclusion, and she had not the slight- 
 est conception of how the whole difficulty would end.
 
 SISTER CARRIE 249 
 
 " Well, that's a fine finish," said Drouet. " Pack up and 
 pull out, eh? You take the cake. I bet you were knock- 
 ing around with Hurstwood or you wouldn't act like that. 
 I don't want the old rooms. You needn't pull out for me. 
 .You can have them for all I care, but b'George, you 
 haven't done me right." 
 
 " I'll not live with you," said Carrie. " I don't want to 
 live with you. You've done nothing but brag around 
 ever since you've been here." 
 
 " Aw, I haven't anything of the kind," he answered. 
 
 Carrie walked over to the door. 
 
 " Where are you going ? " he said, stepping over and 
 heading her off. 
 
 " Let me out," she said. 
 
 " Where are you going? " he repeated. 
 
 He was, above all, sympathetic, and the sight of Carrie 
 wandering out, he knew not where, affected him, despite 
 his grievance. 
 
 Carrie merely pulled at the door. 
 
 The strain of the situation was too much for her, how- 
 ever. She made one more vain effort and then burst into 
 tears. 
 
 "Now, be reasonable, Cad," said Drouet gently. 
 " What do you want to rush out for this way? You 
 haven't any place to go. Why not stay here now and be 
 quiet? I'll not bother you. I don't want to stay here 
 any longer." 
 
 Carrie had gone sobbing from the door to the window. 
 She was so overcome she could not speak. 
 
 " Be reasonable now," he said. " I don't want to hold 
 you. You can go if you want to, but why don't you think 
 it over? Lord knows, I don't want to stop you." 
 
 He received no answer. Carrie was quieting, however, 
 under the influence of his plea. 
 
 " You stay here now, and I'll go," he added at last.
 
 250 
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 Carrie listened to this with mingled feelings. Her 
 mind was shaken loose from the little mooring of logic 
 that it had. She was stirred by this thought, angered by 
 that her own injustice, Hurstwood's, Drouet's, their re- 
 spective qualities of kindness and favour, the threat of the 
 world outside, in which she had failed once before, the 
 impossibility of this state inside, where the chambers were 
 no longer justly hers, the effect of the argument upon her 
 nerves, all combined to make her a mass of jangling fibres 
 an anchorless, storm-beaten little craft which could do 
 absolutely nothing but drift. 
 
 " Say," said Drouet, coming over to her after a few 
 moments, with a new idea, and putting his hand upon her. 
 
 " Don't! " said Carrie, drawing away, but not removing 
 her handkerchief from her eyes. 
 
 " Never mind about this quarrel now. Let it go. You 
 stay here until the month's out, anyhow, and then you can 
 tell better what you want to do. Eh? " 
 
 Carrie made no answer. 
 
 " You'd better do that," he said. " There's no use 
 your packing up now. You can't go anywhere." 
 
 Still he got nothing for his words. 
 
 " If you'll do that, we'll call it off for the present and I'll 
 get out." 
 
 Carrie lowered her handkerchief slightly and looked out 
 of the window. 
 
 " Will you do that? " he asked. 
 . Still no answer. 
 
 "Will you? "he repeated. 
 
 She only looked vaguely into the street. 
 
 "Aw! come on," he said, " tell me. Will you?" 
 
 " I don't know," said Carrie softly, forced to answer. 
 
 " Promise me you'll do that," he said, " and we'll quit 
 talking about it. It'll be the best thing for you." 
 
 Carrie heard him, but she could not bring herself to
 
 SISTER CARRIE 2JI 
 
 answer reasonably. She felt that the man was gentle, and 
 that his interest in her had not abated, and it made her 
 suffer a pang of regret. She was in a most helpless plight. 
 
 As for Drouet, his attitude had been that of the jealous 
 lover. Now his feelings were a mixture of anger at de- 
 ception, sorrow at losing Carrie, misery at being defeated. 
 He wanted his rights in some way or other, and yet his 
 rights included the retaining of Carrie, the making he* 1 
 feel her error. 
 
 " Will you? " he urged. 
 
 " Well, I'll, see," said Carrie. ,'fc 
 
 This left the matter as open as before, but it was some- 
 thing. It looked as if the quarrel would blow over, if they 
 could only get some way of talking to one another. Car- 
 rie was ashamed, and Drouet aggrieved. He pretended to 
 take up the task of packing some things in a valise. 
 
 Now, as Carrie watched him out of the corner of her 
 eye, certain sound thoughts came into her head. He had 
 erred, true, but what had she done? He was kindly and 
 good-natured for all his egotism. Throughout this argu- 
 ment he had said nothing very harsh. On the other hand, 
 there was Hurstwood a greater deceiver than he. He 
 had pretended all this affection, all this passion, and he was 
 lying to her all the while. Oh, the perfidy of men! And 
 she had loved him. There could be nothing more in that 
 quarter. She would see Hurstwood no more. She would 
 write him and let him know what she thought. There- 
 upon what would she do? Here were these rooms. Here 
 was Drouet, pleading for her to remain. Evidently 
 things could go on here somewhat as before, if all were 
 arranged. It would be better than the street, without a 
 place to lay her head. 
 
 Ail this she thought of as Drouet rummaged the drawers 
 for collars and laboured long and painstakingly at finding' 
 .a shirt-stud. He was in no hurry to rush this matter.
 
 252 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 He felt an attraction to Carrie which would not down. 
 He could not think that the thing would end by his walk- 
 ing out of the room. There must be some way round, 
 some way to make her own up that he was right and she 
 was wrong to patch up a peace and shut out Hurstwood 
 for ever. Mercy, how he turned at the man's shameless 
 duplicity. 
 
 " Do you think," he said, after a few moments' silence, 
 " that you'll try and get on the stage? " 
 
 He was wondering what she was intending. 
 
 " I don't know what I'll do yet," said Carrie. 
 
 " If you do, maybe I can help you. I've got a lot of 
 friends in that line." 
 
 She made no answer to this. 
 
 " Don't go and try to knock around now without any 
 money. Let me help you," he said. " It's no easy thing 
 to go on your own hook here." 
 
 Carrie only rocked back and forth in her chair. 
 
 " I don't want you to go up against a hard game that 
 way." 
 
 He bestirred himself about some other details and Car- 
 lie rocked on. 
 
 " Why don't you tell me all about this thing," he said, 
 after a time, " and let's call it off? You don't really care 
 for Hurstwood, do you?" 
 
 " Why do you want to start on that again? " said Car- 
 rie. " You were to blame." 
 
 " No, I wasn't," he answered. 
 
 " Yes, you were, too," said Carrie. " You shouldn't 
 have ever told me such a story as that." 
 
 " But you didn't have much to do with him, did you? " 
 went on Drouet, anxious for his own peace of mind to get 
 some direct denial from her. 
 
 " I won't talk about it," said Carrie, pained at the quiz- 
 zical turn the peace arrangement had taken.
 
 SISTER CARRIE 253 
 
 " What's the use of acting like that now, Cad? " insisted 
 the drummer, stopping in his work and putting up a hand 
 expressively. ' You might let me know where I stand, 
 at least." 
 
 " I won't," said Carrie, feeling no refuge but in anger. 
 " Whatever has happened is your own fault." 
 
 "Then you do care for him?" said Drouet, stopping 
 completely and experiencing a rush of feeling. 
 
 " Oh, stop! " said Carrie. 
 
 " Well, I'll not be made a fool of," exclaimed Drouet. 
 " You may trifle around with him if you want to, but you 
 can't lead me. You can tell me or not, just as you want 
 to, but I won't fool any longer ! " 
 
 He shoved the last few remaining things he had laid 
 out into his valise and snapped it with a vengeance. Then 
 he grabbed his coat, which he had laid off to work, picked 
 up his gloves, and started out. 
 
 " You can go to the deuce as far as I am concerned," 
 he said, as he reached the door. " I'm no sucker," and 
 with that he opened it with a jerk and closed it equally 
 vigorously. 
 
 Carrie listened at her window view, more astonished 
 than anything else at this sudden rise of passion in the 
 drummer. She could hardly believe her senses so good- 
 natured and tractable had he invariably been. It was not 
 for her to see the wellspring of human passion. A real 
 flame of love is a subtle thing. It burns as a will-o'-the- 
 wisp, dancing onward to fairylands of delight. It roars 
 as a furnace. Too often jealousy is the quality upon 
 which it feeds.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 ASHES OF TINDER : A FACE AT THE WINDOW 
 
 That night Hurstwood remained down town entirely, 
 going to the Palmer House for a bed after his work was 
 through. He was in a fevered state of mind, owing to the 
 blight his wife's action threatened to cast upon his entire 
 future. While he was not sure how much significance 
 might be attached to the threat she had made, he was sure 
 that her attitude, if long continued, would cause him no 
 end of trouble. She was determined, and had worsted 
 him in a very important contest. How would it be from 
 now on? He walked the floor of his little office, and later 
 that of his room, putting one thing and another to- 
 gether to no avail. 
 
 Mrs. Hurstwood, on the contrary, had decided not to 
 lose her advantage by inaction. Now that she had prac- 
 tically cowed him, she would follow up her work with de- 
 mands, the acknowledgment of which would make her 
 word law in the future. He would have to pay her the 
 money which she would now regularly demand or there 
 would be trouble. It did not matter what he did. She 
 really did not care whether he came home any more or 
 not. The household would move along much more 
 pleasantly without him, and she could do as she wished 
 without consulting any one. Now she proposed to con- 
 sult a lawyer and hire a detective. She would find out 
 at once just what advantages she could gain. 
 
 Hurstwood walked the floor, mentally arranging the 
 chief points of his situation. " She has that property in
 
 SISTER CARRIE 255 
 
 her name," he kept saying to himself. " What a fool 
 trick that was. Curse it! What a fool move that was." 
 
 He also thought of his managerial position. " If she 
 raises a row now I'll lose this thing. They won't have 
 me around if my name gets in the papers. My friends, 
 too ! " He grew more angry as he thought of the talk any 
 action on her part would create. How would the papers 
 talk about it? Every man he knew would be wondering. 
 He would have to explain and deny and make a general 
 mark of himself. Then Moy would come and confer with 
 him and there would be the devil to pay. 
 
 Many little wrinkles gathered between his eyes as he 
 contemplated this, and his brow moistened. He saw no 
 solution of anything not a loophole left. 
 
 Through all this thoughts of Carrie flashed upon him, 
 and the approaching affair of Saturday. Tangled as all 
 his matters were, he did not worry over that. It was the 
 one pleasing thing in this whole rout of trouble. He 
 could arrange that satisfactorily, for Carrie would be glad 
 to wait, if necessary. He would see how things turned 
 out to-morrow, and then he would talk to her. They 
 were going to meet as usual. He saw only her pretty 
 face and neat figure and wondered why life was not ar- 
 ranged so that such joy as he found with her could be 
 steadily maintained. How much more pleasant it would 
 be. Then he would take up his wife's threat again, and 
 the wrinkles and moisture would return. 
 
 In the morning he came over from the hotel and opened 
 his mail, but there was nothing in it outside the ordinary 
 run. For some reason he felt as if something might 'come 
 that way, and was relieved when all the envelopes had 
 been scanned and nothing suspicious noticed. He began 
 to feel the appetite that had been wanting before he had 
 reached the office, and decided before going out to the 
 park to meet Carrie to drop in at the Grand Pacific and
 
 ^56 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 have a pot of coffee and some rolls. While the danger 
 had not lessened, it had not as yet materialised, and with 
 him no news was good news. If he could only get plenty 
 of time to think, perhaps something would turn up. 
 Surely, surely, this thing would not drift along to catas- 
 trophe and he not find a way out. 
 
 His spirits fell, how r ever, when, upon reaching the park, 
 he waited and waited and Carrie did not come. He held 
 his favourite post for an hour or more, then arose and 
 began to walk about restlessly. Could something have 
 happened out there to keep her away? Could she have 
 been reached by his wife ? Surely not. So little did he con- 
 sider Drouet that it never once occurred to him to worry 
 about his finding out. He grew restless as he ruminated, 
 and then decided that perhaps it was nothing. She hah 
 not been able to get away this morning. That was why 
 no letter notifying him had come. He would get one to- 
 day. It would probably be on his desk when he got back. 
 He would look for it at once. 
 
 After a time he gave up waiting and drearily headed for 
 the Madison car. To add to his distress, the bright blue 
 sky became overcast with little fleecy clouds which shut 
 out the sun. The wind veered to the east, and by the 
 time he reached his office it was threatening to drizzle all 
 afternoon. 
 
 He went in and examined his letters, but there was 
 nothing from Carrie. Fortunately, there was nothing 
 from his wife either. He thanked his stars that he did 
 not have to confront that proposition just now when he 
 needed to think so much. He walked the floor again, 
 pretending to be in an ordinary mood, but secretly trou- 
 bled beyond the expression of words. 
 
 At one-thirty he went to Rector's for lunch, and when 
 he returned a messenger was waiting for him. He looked 
 at the little chap with a feeling of doubt.
 
 SISTER CARRIE 257 
 
 " I'm to bring an answer," said the boy. 
 
 Hurstwood recognised his wife's writing. He tore it 
 open and read without a show of feeling. It began in the 
 most formal manner and was sharply and coldly worded 
 throughout. 
 
 " I want you to send the money I asked for at once. I 
 need it to carry out my plans. You can stay away if you 
 want to. It doesn't matter in the least. But I must 
 have some money. So don't delay, but send it by the 
 boy." 
 
 When he had finished it, he stood holding it in his 
 hands. The audacity of the thing took his breath. It 
 roused his ire also the deepest element of revolt in him. 
 His first impulse was to write but four words in reply 
 " Go to the devil ! " but he compromised by telling the 
 boy that there would be no reply. Then he sat down in 
 his chair and gazed without seeing, contemplating the 
 result of his work. What would she do about that ? The 
 confounded wretch ! Was she going to try to bulldoze him 
 into submission? He would go up there and have it out 
 with her, that's what he would do. She was carrying 
 things with top high a hand. These were his first 
 thoughts. 
 
 Later, however, his old discretion asserted itself. Some- 
 thing had to be done. A climax was near and she would 
 not sit idle. He knew her well enough to know that when 
 she had decided upon a plan she would follow it up. Pos- 
 sibly matters would go into a lawyer's hands at once. 
 
 " Damn her ! " he said softly, with his teeth firmly set, 
 " I'll make it hot for her if she causes me trouble. I'll 
 make her change her tone if I have to use force to do 
 it!" 
 
 He arose from his chair and went and looked out into 
 the street. The long drizzle had begun. Pedestrians had 
 turned up collars, and trousers at the bottom. Hands
 
 258 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 were hidden in the pockets of the umbrellaless ; umbrellas 
 were up. The street looked like a sea of round black 
 cloth roofs, twisting, bobbing, moving. Trucks and vans 
 were rattling in a noisy line and everywhere men were 
 shielding themselves as best they could. He scarcely no- 
 ticed the picture. He was forever confronting his wife, 
 demanding of her to change her attitude toward him be- 
 fore he worked her bodily harm. 
 
 At four o'clock another note came, which simply said 
 that if the money was not forthcoming that evening the 
 matter would be laid before Fitzgerald and Moy on the 
 morrow, and other steps would be taken to get it. 
 
 Hurstwood almost exclaimed out loud at the in- 
 sistency of this thing. Yes, he would send her the 
 money. t[e'd take it to her he would go up there and 
 have a talk with her, and that at once. 
 
 He put on his hat and looked around for his umbrella. 
 He would have some arrangement of this thing. 
 
 He called a cab and was driven through the dreary rain 
 to the North Side. On the way his temper cooled as he 
 thought of the details of the case. What did she know? 
 What had she done? Maybe she'd got hold of Carrie, 
 who knows or or Drouet. Perhaps she really had 
 evidence, and was prepared to fell him as a man does 
 another from secret ambush. She was shrewd. Why 
 should she taunt him this way unless she had good 
 grounds? 
 
 He began to wish that he had compromised in some 
 way or other that he had sent the money. Perhaps he 
 could do it up here. He would go in and see, anyhow. 
 He would have no row. 
 
 By the time he reached his, own street he was keenly 
 alive to the difficulties of his situation and wished over and 
 over that some solution would offer itself, that he could 
 see his way out. He alighted and went up the steps to
 
 SISTER CARRIE 259 
 
 the front door, but it was with a nervous palpitation of 
 the heart. He pulled out his key and tried to insert it, 
 but another key was on the inside. He shook at the knob, 
 but the door was locked. Then he rang the bell. No 
 answer. He rang again this time harder. Still no an- 
 swer. He jangled it fiercely several times in succession, 
 but without avail. Then he went below. 
 
 There was a door which opened under the steps into 
 the kitchen, protected by an iron grating, intended as a 
 safeguard against burglars. When he reached this he 
 noticed that it also was bolted and that the kitchen win- 
 dows were down. What could it mean? He rang the 
 bell and then waited. Finally, seeing that no one was 
 coming, he turned and went back to his cab. 
 
 " I guess they've gone out," he said apologetically to 
 the individual who was hiding his red face in a loose tar- 
 paulin rain-coat. 
 
 " I saw a young girl up in that winder," returned the 
 cabby. 
 
 Hurstwood looked, but there was no face there now. 
 He climbed moodily into the cab, relieved and distressed. 
 
 So this was the game, was it? Shj.it him out and make 
 him pay. Well, by the Lord, that did beat all !
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 ASHES OF TINDER: THE LOOSING OF STAYS 
 
 When Hurstwood got back to his office again he was 
 in a greater quandary than ever. Lord, Lord, he thought, 
 what had he got into? How could things have taken 
 such a violent turn, and so quickly? He could hardly 
 realise how it had all come about. It seemed a mon- 
 strous, unnatural, unwarranted condition which had sud- 
 denly descended upon him vithout his let or hindrance. 
 
 Meanwhile he gave a thought now and then to Carrie. 
 What could be the trouble in that quarter? No letter 
 had come, no word of any kind, and yet here it was late in 
 the evening and she had agreed to meet him that morning. 
 To-morrow they were to have met and gone off where ? 
 He saw that in the excitement of recent events he had not 
 formulated a plan upon that score. He was desperately 
 in love, and would have taken great chances to win her 
 under ordinary circumstances, but now now what ? Sup- 
 posing she had found out something? Supposing she, too, 
 wrote him and told him that she knew all that she would 
 have nothing more to do with him ? It would be just like 
 this to happen as things were going now. Meanwhile he 
 had not sent the money. 
 
 He strolled up and down the polished floor of the re- 
 sort, his hands in his pockets, his brow wrinkled, his 
 mouth set. He was getting some vague comfort out of a 
 good cigar, but it was no panacea for the ill which affected 
 him. Every once in a while he would clinch his fingers
 
 SISTER CARRIE 261 
 
 and tap his foot signs of the stirring mental process he 
 was undergoing. His whole nature was vigorously and 
 powerfully shaken up, and he was finding what limits the 
 mind has to endurance. He drank more brandy and soda 
 than he had any evening in months. He was altogether 
 a fine example of great mental perturbation. 
 
 For all his study nothing came of the evening except 
 this he sent the money. It was with great opposition, 
 after two or three hours of the most urgent mental affirma- 
 tion and denial, that at last he got an envelope, placed in 
 it the requested amount, and slowly sealed it up. 
 
 Then he called Harry, the boy of all work around the 
 place. 
 
 " You take this to this address," he said, handing him 
 the envelope, " and give it to Airs. Hurstwood." 
 
 " Yes, sir," said the boy. 
 
 " If she isn't there bring it back." 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " You've seen my wife? " he asked as a precautionary 
 measure as the boy turned to go. 
 
 " Oh, yes, sir. I know her." 
 
 " All right, now. Hurry right back." 
 
 " Any answer? " 
 
 " I guess not." 
 
 The boy hastened away and the manager fell to his mus- 
 ings. Now he had done it. There was no use speculat- 
 ing over that. He was beaten for to-night and he might 
 just as well make the best of it. But, oh, the wretched- 
 ness of being forced this way! He could see her meeting 
 the boy at the door and smiling sardonically. She would 
 take the envelope and know that she had triumphed. If 
 he only had that letter back .he wouldn't send it. He 
 breathed heavily and wiped the moisture from his face. 
 
 For relief, he arose and joined in conversation with 5. 
 few friends who were drinking. He tried to get the in-
 
 262 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 terest of things about him, but it was not to be. All the 
 time his thoughts would run out to his home and see the 
 scene being therein enacted. All the time he was won- 
 dering what she would say when the boy handed her the 
 envelope. 
 
 In about an hour and three-quarters the boy returned. 
 He had evidently delivered the package, for, as he came 
 up, he made no sign of taking anything out of his pocket. 
 
 " Well? " said Hurstwood. 
 
 " I gave it to her." 
 
 " My wife? " 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " Any answer? " 
 
 " She said it was high time." 
 
 Hurstwood scowled fiercely. 
 
 There was no more to be done upon that score that 
 night. He went on brooding over his situation until mid- 
 night, when he repaired again to the Palmer House. He 
 wondered what the morning would bring forth, and slept 
 anything but soundly upon it. 
 
 Next day he went again to the office and opened his 
 mail, suspicious and hopeful of its contents. No word 
 from Carrie. Nothing from his wife, which was pleasant. 
 
 The fact that he had sent the money and that she had 
 received it worked to the ease of his mind, for, as the 
 thought that he had done it receded, his chagrin at it 
 grew less and his hope of peace more. He fancied, as he 
 sat at his desk, that nothing would be done for a week of 
 two. Meanwhile, he would have time to think. 
 
 This process of thinking began by a reversion to Carrie 
 and the arrangement by which he was to get her away 
 from Drouet. How about that now? His pain at her 
 failure to meet or write him rapidly increased as he de- 
 voted himself to this subject. He decided to write her 
 care of the West Side Post-office and ask for an explana-
 
 SISTER CARRIE 263 
 
 tion, as well as to have her meet him. The thought that 
 this letter would probably not reach her until Monday 
 chafed him exceedingly. He must get some speedier 
 method but how? 
 
 He thought upon it for a half-hour, not contemplating 
 a messenger or a cab direct to the house, owing to the 
 exposure of it, but rinding that time was slipping away 
 to no purpose, he wrote the letter and then began to think 
 again. 
 
 The hours slipped by, and with them the possibility of 
 the union he had contemplated. He had thought to be joy- 
 ously aiding Carrie by now in the task of joining her in- 
 terests to his, and here it was afternoon and nothing done. 
 Three o'clock came, four, five, six, and no letter. The 
 helpless manager paced the floor and grimly endured the 
 gloom of defeat. He saw a busy Saturday ushered out, 
 the Sabbath in, and nothing done. All day, the bar being 
 closed, he brooded alone, shut out from home, fr 3m the 
 excitement of his resort, from Carrie, and without the 
 ability to alter his condition one iota. It was the worst 
 Sunday he had spent in his life. 
 
 In Monday's second mail he encountered a very legal- 
 looking letter, which held his interest for some time. It 
 bore the imprint of the law offices of McGregor, James 
 and Hay, and with a very formal " Dear Sir," and " We 
 beg to state," went on to inform him briefly that they had 
 been retained by Mrs. Julia Hurstwood to adjust certain 
 matters which related to her sustenance and property 
 rights, and would he kindly call and see them about the 
 matter at once. 
 
 He read it through carefully several times, and then 
 merely shook his head. It seemed as if his family troubles 
 were just beginning. 
 
 " Well! " he said after a time, quite audibly, " I don't 
 know."
 
 264 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 Then he folded it up and put it in his pocket. 
 
 To add to his misery there was no word from Carrie. 
 He was quite certain now that she knew he was married 
 and was angered at his perfidy. His loss seemed all the 
 more bitter now that he needed her most. He thought 
 he would go out and insist on seeing her if she did not 
 send him word of some sort soon. He was really affected 
 most miserably of all by this desertion. He had loved her 
 earnestly enough, but now that the possibility of losing 
 her stared him in the face she seemed much more at- 
 tractive. He really pined for a word, and looked out upon 
 her with his mind's eye in the most wistful manner. He 
 did not propose to lose her, whatever she might think. 
 Come what might, he would adjust this matter, and soon. 
 He would go to her and tell her all his family complica- 
 tions. He would explain to her just where he stood and 
 how much he needed her. Surely she couldn't go back 
 on him now? It wasn't possible. He would plead until 
 her anger would melt until she would forgive him. 
 
 Suddenly he thought: " Supposing she isn't out there 
 suppose she has gone ? " 
 
 He was forced to take his feet. It was too much to 
 think of and sit still. 
 
 Nevertheless, his rousing availed him nothing. 
 
 On Tuesday it was the same way. He did manage to 
 bring himself into the mood to go out to Carrie, but when 
 he got in Ogden Place he thought he saw a man watch- 
 ing him and went away. He did not go "within a block of 
 the house. 
 
 One of the galling incidents of this visit was that he 
 came back on a Randolph Street car, and without noticing 
 arrived almost opposite the building of the concern with 
 which his son was connected. This sent a pang through 
 his heart. He had called on his boy there several times. 
 Now the lad had not sent him a word. His absence did
 
 SISTER CARRIE 26$ 
 
 not seem to be noticed by either of his children. Well, 
 well, fortune plays a man queer tricks. He got back to 
 his office and joined in a conversation with friends. It 
 was as if idle chatter deadened the sense of misery. 
 
 That night he dined at Rector's and returned at once 
 to his office. In the bustle and show of the latter was his 
 only relief. He troubled over many little details and 
 talked perfunctorily to everybody. He stayed at his desk 
 long after all others had gone, and only quitted it when 
 the night watchman on his round pulled at the front door 
 to see if it was safely locked. 
 
 On Wednesday he received another polite note from 
 McGregor, James and Hay. It read: 
 
 "Dear Sir : We beg to inform you that we are instructed io 
 wait until to-morrow (Thursday) at one o'clock, before filing suit 
 against you, on behalf of Mrs. Julia Hurstwood, for divorce and 
 alimony. If we do not hear from you before that time we shall 
 consider that you do not wish to compromise the matter in any 
 way and act accordingly. 
 
 "Very truly yours, etc." 
 
 " Compromise ! " exclaimed Hurstwood bitterly. 
 " Compromise! " 
 
 Again he shook his head. 
 
 So here it was spread out clear before him, and now he 
 knew what to expect. If he didn't go and see them they 
 would sue him promptly. If he did, he would be offered 
 terms that would make his blood boil. He folded the let' 
 ter and put it with the other one. Then he put on his hat 
 and went for a turn about the block.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 THE AMBASSADOR FALLEN: A SEARCH FOR THE GATE 
 
 Carrie, left alone by Drouet, listened to his retreating 
 steps, scarcely realising what had happened. She knew 
 *hat he had stormed out. It was some moments before 
 she questioned whether he would return, not now exactly, 
 but ever. She looked around her upon the rooms, out of 
 which the evening light was dying, and wondered why 
 she did not feel quite the same towards them. She went 
 over to the dresser and struck a match, lighting the gas. 
 Then she went back to the rocker to think. 
 
 It was some time before she could collect her thoughts, 
 but when she did, this truth began to take on importance. 
 She was quite alone. Suppose Drouet did not come back ? 
 Suppose she should never hear anything more of him? 
 This fine arrangement of chambers would not last long. 
 She would have to quit them. 
 
 To her credit, be it said, she never once counted on 
 Hurstwood. She could only approach that subject with 
 a pang of sorrow and regret. For a truth, she was rather 
 shocked and frightened by this evidence of human de- 
 pravity. He would have tricked her without turning an 
 eyelash. She would have been led into a newer and worse 
 situation. And yet she could not keep out the pictures 
 of his looks and manners. Only this one deed seemed 
 strange and miserable. It contrasted sharply with all she 
 felt and knew concerning the man. 
 
 But she was alone. That was the greater thought just 
 at present. How about that? Would she go out to
 
 SISTER CARRIE 267 
 
 work again? Would she begin to look around in the 
 business district ? The stage 1 Oh, yes. Drouet had 
 spoken about that. Was there any hope there? She 
 moved to and fro, in deep and varied thoughts, while the 
 minutes slipped away and night fell completely. She had 
 had nothing to eat, and yet there she sat, thinking it over. 
 
 She remembered that she was hungry and went to the 
 little cupboard in the rear room where were the remains 
 of one of their breakfasts. She looked at these things 
 with certain misgivings. The contemplation of food had 
 more significance than usual. 
 
 While she was eating she began to wonder how much 
 money she had. It struck her as exceedingly important, 
 and without ado she went to look for her purse. It was 
 on the dresser, and in it were seven dollars in bills and 
 some change. She quailed as she thought of the insig- 
 nificance of the amount and rejoiced because the rent was 
 paid until the end of the month. She began also to think 
 what she would have done if she had gone out into the 
 street when she first started. By the side of that situa' 
 tion, as she looked at it now, the present seemed agree- 
 able. She had a little time at least, and then, perhaps, 
 everything would come out all right, after all. 
 
 Drouet had gone, but what of it? He did not seem 
 seriously angry. He only acted as if he were huffy. He 
 would come back of course he would. There was his 
 cane in the corner. Here was one of his collars. He had 
 left his light overcoat in the wardrobe. She looked about 
 and tried to assure herself with the sight of a dozen such 
 details, but, alas, the secondary thought arrived. Sup- 
 posing he did come back. Then what? 
 
 Here was another proposition nearly, if not quite, as 
 disturbing. She would have to talk with and explain to 
 him. He would want her to admit that he was right. It 
 would be impossible for her to live with him.
 
 .268 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 On Friday Carrie remembered her appointment with 
 Hurstwood, and the passing of the hour when she should, 
 by all right of promise, have been in his company served 
 to keep the calamity which had befallen her exceedingly 
 fresh and clear. In her nervousness and stress of mind 
 she felt it necessary to act, and consequently put on 
 a brown street dress, and at eleven o'clock started to 
 visit the business portion once again. She must look 
 for work. 
 
 The rain, which threatened at twelve and began at one, 
 served equally well to cause her to retrace her steps 
 and remain within doors as it did to reduce Hurstwood's 
 spirits and give him a wretched day. 
 
 The morrow was Saturday, a half-holiday in many busi- 
 ness quarters, and besides it was a balmy, radiant day, with 
 the trees and grass shining exceedingly green after the 
 rain of the night before. When she went out the sparrows 
 were twittering merrily in joyous choruses. She could 
 not help feeling, as she looked across the lovely park, that 
 life was a joyous thing for those who did not need to 
 worry, and she wished over and over that something 
 might interfere now to preserve for her the comfortable 
 state which she had occupied. She did not want Drouet 
 or his money when she thought of it, nor anything more 
 to do with Hurstwood, but only the content and ease of 
 mind she had experienced, for, after all, she had been 
 happy happier, at least, than she was now when con- 
 fronted by the necessity of making her way alone. 
 
 When she arrived in the business part it was quite 
 eleven o'clock, and the business had little longer to run. 
 She did not realise this at first, being affected by some of 
 the old distress which was a result of her earlier adventure 
 into this strenuous and exacting quarter. She wandered 
 about, assuring herself that she was making up her mind 
 to look for something, and at the same time feeling that
 
 SISTER CARRIE 269 
 
 perhaps it was not necessary to be in such haste about it. 
 The thing was difficult to encounter, and she had a few 
 days. Besides, she was not sure that she was really face 
 to face again with the bitter problem of self-sustenance. 
 Anyhow, there was one change for the better. She knew 
 that she had improved in appearance. Her manner had 
 vastly changed. Her clothes were becoming, and men 
 well-dressed men, some of the kind who before had 
 gazed at her indifferently from behind their polished rail- 
 ings and imposing office partitions now gazed into her 
 face with a soft light in their eyes. In a way, she felt the 
 power and satisfaction of the thing, but it did not wholly 
 reassure her. She looked for nothing save what might 
 come legitimately and without the appearance of special 
 favour. She wanted something, but no man should buy 
 her by false protestations or favour. She proposed to 
 earn her living honestly. 
 
 " This store closes at one on Saturdays," was a pleasing 
 and satisfactory legend to see upon doors which she felt 
 she ought to enter and inquire for work. It gave her an 
 excuse, and after encountering quite a number of them, 
 and noting that the clock registered 12.15, she decided 
 that it would be no use to seek further to-day, so she got 
 on a car and went to Lincoln Park. There was always 
 something to see there the flowers, the animals, the lake 
 and she flattered herself that on Monday she would be 
 up betimes and searching. Besides, many things might 
 happen between now and Monday. 
 
 Sunday passed with equal doubts, worries, assurances, 
 and heaven knows what vagaries of mind and spirit. 
 Every half-hour in the day the thought would come to her 
 most sharply, like the tail of a swishing whip, that action 
 immediate action was imperative. At other times she 
 would look about her and assure herself that things were 
 not so bad that certainly she would come out safe and
 
 270 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 sound. At such times she would think of Drouet's ad- 
 vice about going on the stage, and saw some chance for 
 herself in that quarter. She decided to take up that op- 
 portunity on the morrow. 
 
 Accordingly, she arose early Monday morning and 
 dressed herself carefully. She did not know just how such 
 applications were made, but she took it to be a matter 
 which related more directly to the theatre buildings. All 
 you had to do was to inquire of some one about the 
 theatre for the manager and ask for a position. If there 
 was anything, you might get it, or, at least, he could tell 
 you how. 
 
 She had had no experience with this class of individuals 
 whatsoever, and did not know the salacity and humour of 
 the theatrical tribe. She only knew of the position which 
 Mr. Hale occupied, but, of all things, she did not wish 
 to encounter that personage, on account of her intimacy 
 with his wife. 
 
 There was, however, at this time, one theatre, the 
 Chicago Opera House, which was considerably in the 
 public eye, and its manager, David A. Henderson, had a 
 fair local reputation. Carrie had seen one or two elabo- 
 rate performances there and had heard of several others. 
 She knew nothing of Henderson nor of the methods of 
 applying, but she instinctively felt that this would be a 
 likely place, and accordingly strolled about in that neigh- 
 bourhood. She came bravely enough to the showy en- 
 trance way, with the polished and begilded lobby, set with 
 framed pictures out of the current attraction, leading up to 
 the quiet box-office, but she could get no further. A 
 noted comic opera comedian was holding forth that week, 
 and the air of distinction and prosperity overawed her. 
 She could not imagine that there would be anything in 
 such a lofty sphere for her. She almost trembled at the 
 audacity which might have carried her on to a terrible
 
 SISTER CARRIE 271 
 
 rebuff. She could find heart only to look at the pictures 
 which were showy and then walk out. It seemed to her 
 as if she had made a splendid escape and that it would be 
 foolhardy to think of applying in that quarter again. 
 
 This little experience settled her hunting for one day. 
 She looked around elsewhere, but it was from the outside. 
 She got the location of several playhouses fixed in her 
 mind notably the Grand Opera House and McVickar's, 
 both of which were leading in attractions and then came 
 away. Her spirits were materially reduced, owing to the 
 newly restored sense of magnitude of the great interests 
 and the insignificance of her claims upon society, such as 
 she understood them to be. 
 
 That night she was visited by Mrs. Hale, whose chatter 
 and protracted stay made it impossible to dwell upon her 
 predicament or the fortune of the day. Before retiring, 
 however, she sat down to think, and gave herself up to 
 the most gloomy forebodings. Drouet had not put in 
 an appearance. She had had no word from any quarter, 
 she had spent a dollar of her precious sum in procuring 
 food and paying car fare. It was evident that she would 
 not endure long. Besides, she had discovered no resource. 
 
 In this situation her thoughts went out to her sister in 
 Van Buren Street, whom she had not seen since the night 
 of her flight, and to her home at Columbia City, which 
 seemed now a part of something that could not be again. 
 She looked for no refuge in that direction. Nothing but 
 sorrow was brought her by thoughts of Hurstwood, which 
 would return. That he could have chosen to dupe her in 
 so ready a manner seemed a cruel thing. 
 
 Tuesday came, and with it appropriate indecision and 
 speculation. She was in no -mood, after her failure of the 
 day before, to hasten forth upon her work-seeking errand, 
 and yet she rebuked herself for what she considered her 
 weakness the day before. Accordingly she started out to
 
 272 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 revisit the Chicago Opera House, but possessed scarcely 
 enough courage to approach. 
 
 She did manage to inquire at the box-office, however. 
 
 " Manager of the company or the house ? " asked the 
 smartly dressed individual who took care of the tickets. 
 He was favourably impressed by Carrie's looks. 
 
 " I don't know," said Carrie, taken back by the question. 
 
 " You couldn't see the manager of the house to-day, 
 anyhow," volunteered the young man. " He's out of 
 town." 
 
 He noted her puzzled look, and then added: " What is 
 it you wish to see about? " 
 
 " I want to see about getting a position," she answered. 
 
 " You'd better see the manager of the company," he 
 returned, " but he isn't here now." 
 
 " When will he be in ? " asked Carrie, somewhat re- 
 lieved by this information. 
 
 " Well, you might find him in between eleven and 
 twelve. He's here after two o'clock." 
 
 Carrie thanked him and walked briskly out, while the 
 young man gazed after her through one of the side win- 
 dows of his gilded coop. 
 
 " Good-looking," he said to himself, and proceeded to 
 visions of condescensions on her part which were exceed- 
 ingly flattering to himself. 
 
 One of the principal comedy companies of the day was 
 playing an engagement at the Grand Opera House. Here 
 Carrie asked to see the manager of the company. She 
 little knew the trivial authority of this individual, or that 
 had there been a vacancy an actor would have been sent 
 on from New York to fill it. 
 
 " His office is upstairs," said a man in the box-office. 
 
 Several persons were in the manager's office, two loung- 
 ing near a window, another talking to an individual sit- 
 ting at a roll-top desk the manager. Carrie glanced
 
 SISTER CARRIE 273 
 
 nervously about, and began to fear that she should have to 
 make her appeal before the assembled company, two of 
 whom the occupants of the window were already ob" 
 serving her carefully. 
 
 " I can't do it," the manager was saying; " it's a rulr 
 of Mr. Frohman's never to allow visitors back of the stage. 
 No, no! " 
 
 Carrie timidly waited, standing. There were chairs, but 
 no one motioned her to be seated. The individual to 
 whom the manager had been talking went away quite 
 crestfallen. That luminary gazed earnestly at some papers 
 before him, as if they were of the greatest concern. 
 
 " Did you see that in the ' Herald ' this morning about 
 Nat Goodwin, Harris? " 
 
 " No," said the person addressed. " What was it? " 
 
 " Made quite a curtain address at Hooley's last night. 
 Better look it up." 
 
 Harris reached over to a table and began to look for 
 the " Herald." 
 
 " What is it? " said the manager to Carrie, apparently 
 noticing her for the first time. He thought he was going 
 to be held up for free tickets. 
 
 Carrie summoned up all her courage, which was little at 
 best. She realised that she was a novice, and felt as if 
 a rebuff were certain. Of this she was so sure that she 
 only wished now to pretend she had called for advice. 
 
 " Can you tell me how to go about getting on the 
 stage? " 
 
 It was the best way after all to have gone about the 
 matter. She was interesting, in a manner, to the occu- 
 pant of the chair, and the simplicity of her request and 
 attitude took his fancy. He smiled, as did the others 
 in the room, who, however, made some slight effort to 
 conceal their humour. 
 
 " I don't know," he answered, looking her brazenly 
 tl
 
 274 
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 over. " Have you ever had any experience upon the 
 stage? " 
 
 " A little," answered Carrie. " I have taken part in 
 amateur performances." 
 
 She thought she had to make some sort of showing in 
 order to retain his interest. 
 
 " Xever studied for the stage?" he said, putting on an 
 air intended as much to impress his friends with his dis- 
 cretion as Carrie. 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 " Well, I don't know," he answered, tipping lazily back 
 in his chair while she stood before him. " What makes 
 you want to get on the stage ? " 
 
 She felt abashed at the man's daring, but could only 
 smile in answer to his engaging smirk, and say: 
 
 " I need to make a living." 
 
 " Oh," he answered, rather taken by her trim appear- 
 ance, and feeling as if he might scrape up an acquaintance 
 with her. " That's a good reason, isn't it? Well, Chi- 
 cago is not a good place for what you want to do. You 
 ought to be in New York. There's more chance there. 
 You could hardly expect to get started out here." 
 
 Carrie smiled genially, grateful that he should conde- 
 scend to advise her even so much. He noticed the 
 smile, and put a slightly different construction on it. 
 He thought he saw an easy chance for a little flirtation. 
 
 " Sit down," he said, pulling a chair forward from the 
 side of his desk and dropping his voice so that the two 
 men in the room should not hear. Those two gave each 
 other the suggestion of a wink. 
 
 " Well, I'll be going, Barney," said one, breaking away 
 and so addressing the manager. " See you this after- 
 noon." 
 
 " All right," said the manager. 
 
 The remaining individual took up a paper as if to read.
 
 SISTER CARRIE 275 
 
 " Did you have any idea what sort of part you would 
 like to get? " asked the manager softly. 
 
 " Oh, no," said Carrie. " I would take anything to 
 begin with." 
 
 " I see," he said. " Do you live here in the city? " 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 The manager smiled most blandly. 
 
 " Have you ever tried to get in as a chorus girl? " he 
 asked, assuming a more confidential air. 
 
 Carrie began to feel that there was something exuberant 
 and unnatural in his manner. 
 
 " No," she said. 
 
 " That's the way most girls begin," he went on, " who 
 go on the stage. It's a good way to get experience." 
 
 He was turning on her a glance of the companionable 
 and persuasive manner. 
 
 " I didn't know that," said Carrie. 
 
 " It's a difficult thing," he went on, " but there's al- 
 ways a chance, you know." Then, as if he suddenly re- 
 membered, he pulled out his watch and consulted it. 
 " I've an appointment at two," he said, " and I've got to 
 go to lunch now. Would you care to come and dine with 
 me? We can talk it over there." 
 
 " Oh, no," said Carrie, the whole motive of the man 
 flashing on her at once. " I have an engagement myself." 
 
 " That's too bad," he said, realising that he had been 9 
 little beforehand in his offer and that Carrie was about 
 to go away. " Come in later. I may know of some- 
 thing." 
 
 " Thank you," she answered, with some trepidation, 
 and went out. 
 
 " She was good-looking, wasn't she? " said the mana- 
 ger's companion, who had not caught all the details of the 
 game he had played. 
 
 " Yes, in a way," said the other, sore to think the game
 
 276 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 had been iost. " She'd never make an actress, though. 
 Just another chorus girl that's all." 
 
 This little experience nearly destroyed her ambition to 
 call upon the manager at the Chicago Opera House, but 
 she decided to do so after a time. He was of a more 
 sedate turn of mind. He said at once that there was 
 no opening of any sort, and seemed to consider her 
 search foolish. 
 
 " Chicago is no place to get a start," he said. " You 
 ought to be in New York." 
 
 Still she persisted, and went to McVickar's, where she 
 could not find any one. " The Old Homestead " was run- 
 ning there, but the person to whom she was referred was 
 not to be found. 
 
 These little expeditions took up her time until quite four 
 o'clock, when she was weary enough to go home. She 
 felt as if she ought to continue and inquire elsewhere, but 
 the results so far were too dispiriting. She took the car 
 and arrived at Ogden Place in three-quarters of an hour, 
 but decided to ride on to the West Side branch of the 
 Post-office, where she was accustomed to receive Hurst- 
 wood's letters. There was one there now, written Satur- 
 day, which she tore open and read with mingled feelings. 
 There was so much warmth in it and such tense complaint 
 at her having failed to meet him, and her subsequent si- 
 lence, that she rather pitied the man. That he loved her 
 was evident enough. That he had wished and dared to 
 do so, married as he was, was the evil. She felt as if the 
 thing deserved an answer, and consequently decided that 
 she would write and let him know that she knew of his 
 married state and was justly incensed at his deception. 
 She would tell him that it was all over between them. 
 
 At her room, the wording of this missive occupied her 
 for some time, for she fell to the task at once. It was most 
 difficult.
 
 SISTER CARRIE 277 
 
 " You do not need to have me explain why I did not meet 
 you," she wrote in part. " How could you deceive me so ? You 
 cannot expect me to have anything more to do with you. I 
 wouldn't under any circumstances. Oh, how could you act 
 so ? " she added in a burst of feeling. " You have caused me 
 more misery than you can think. I hope you will get over your 
 infatuation for me. We must not meet any more. Good-bye." 
 
 She took the letter the next morning, and at the corner 
 dropped it reluctantly into the letter-box, still uncertain 
 as to whether she should do so or not. Then she took the 
 car and went down town. 
 
 This was the dull season with the department stores, 
 but she was listened to with more consideration than was 
 usually accorded to young women applicants, owing to 
 her neat and attractive appearance. She was asked the 
 same old questions with which she was already familiar. 
 
 " What can you do? Have you ever worked in a re- 
 tail store before? Are you experienced?" 
 
 At The Fair, See and Company's, and all the great 
 stores it was much the same. It was the dull season, 
 she might come in a little later, possibly they would 
 like to have her. 
 
 When she arrived at the house at the end of the day, 
 weary and disheartened, she discovered that Drouet had 
 been there. His umbrella and light overcoat were gone. 
 She thought she missed other things, but could not be 
 sure. Everything had not been taken. 
 
 So his going was crystallising into staying. What was 
 she to do now? Evidently she would be facing the world 
 in the same old way within a day or two. Her clothes 
 would get poor. She put her two hands together in her 
 customary expressive way and pressed her fingers. Large 
 tears gathered in her eyes and broke hot across her cheeks. 
 She was alone, very much alone. 
 
 Drouet really had called, but it was with a very different
 
 278 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 mind from that which Carrie had imagined. He expected 
 to find her, to justify his return by claiming that he came 
 to get the remaining portion of his wardrobe, and before 
 he got away again to patch up a peace. 
 
 Accordingly, when he arrived, he was disappointed to 
 find Carrie out. He trifled about, hoping that she was 
 somewhere in the neighbourhood and would soon return. 
 He constantly listened, expecting to hear her foot on the 
 stair. 
 
 When he did so, it was his intention to make believe 
 that he had just come in and was disturbed at being 
 caught. Then he would explain his need of his clothes 
 and find out how things stood. 
 
 Wait as he did, however, Carrie did not come. From 
 pottering around among the drawers, in momentary ex- 
 pectation of her arrival, he changed to looking out of the 
 window, and from that to resting himself in the rocking, 
 chair. Still no Carrie. He began to grow restless and lit 
 a cigar. After that he walked the floor. Then he looked 
 out of the window and saw clouds gathering. He remem- 
 bered an appointment at three. He began to think that it 
 would be useless to wait, and got hold of his umbrella and 
 light coat, intending to take these things, any way. It 
 would scare her, he hoped. To-morrow he would come 
 back for the others. He would find out how things stood. 
 
 As he started to go he felt truly sorry that he had missed 
 her. There was a little picture of her on the wall, showing 
 her arrayed in the little jacket he had first bought her 
 her face a little more wistful than he had seen it lately. 
 He was really touched by it, and looked into the eyes of it 
 with a rather rare feeling for him. 
 
 " You didn't do me right, Cad," he said, as if he were 
 addressing her in the flesh. 
 
 Then he went to the door, took a good look around, 
 and went out.
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 WHEN WATERS ENGULF US WE REACH FOR A STAR 
 
 It was when he returned from his disturbed stroll about 
 the streets, after receiving the decisive note from Mc- 
 Gregor, James and Hay, that Hurstwood found the letter 
 Carrie had written him that morning. He thrilled in- 
 tensely as he noted the handwriting; and rapidly tore it 
 open. 
 
 " Then," he thought, " she loves me or she would not 
 have written to me at all." 
 
 He was slightly depressed at the tenor of the note for 
 the first few minutes, but soon recovered. " She wouldn't 
 write at all if she didn't care for me." 
 
 This was his one resource against the depression which 
 held him. He could extract little from the wording of the 
 letter, but the spirit he thought he knew. 
 
 There was really something exceedingly human if not 
 pathetic in his being thus relieved by a clearly worded 
 reproof. He who had for so long remained satisfied with 
 himself now looked outside of himself for comfort and 
 to such a source. The mystic cords of affection ! How 
 they bind us all. 
 
 The colour came to his cheeks. For the moment he 
 forgot the letter from McGregor, James and Hay. If he 
 could only have Carrie, perhaps' he could get out of the 
 whole entanglement perhaps it would not matter. He 
 wouldn't care what his wife did with herself if only he 
 might not lose Carrie. He stood up and walked abouL
 
 280 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 dreaming his delightful dream of a life continued with this 
 lovely possessor of his heart. 
 
 It was not long, however, before the old worry was 
 back for consideration, and with it what weariness! He 
 thought of the morrow and the suit. He had done noth- 
 ing, and here was the afternoon slipping away. It was 
 now a quarter of four. At five the attorneys would have 
 gone home. He still had the morrow until noon. Even 
 as he thought, the last fifteen minutes passed away and it 
 was five. Then he abandoned the thought of seeing them 
 any more that day and turned to Carrie. 
 
 It is to be observed that the man did not justify himself 
 to himself. He was not troubling about that. His whole 
 thought was the possibility of persuading Carrie. Noth- 
 ing was wrong in that. He loved her dearly. Their mu- 
 tual happiness depended upon it. Would that Drouet 
 were only away! 
 
 While he was thinking thus elatedly, he remembered 
 that he wanted some clean linen in the morning. 
 
 This he purchased, together with a half-dozen ties, and 
 went to the Palmer House. As he entered he thought he 
 saw Drouet ascending the stairs with a key. Surely not 
 Drouet! Then he thought, perhaps they had changed 
 their abode temporarily. He went straight up to the 
 desk. 
 
 " Is Mr. Drouet stopping here? " he asked of the clerk. 
 
 " I think he is," said the latter, consulting his private 
 registry list. " Yes." 
 
 "Is that so?" exclaimed Hurstwood, otherwise con- 
 cealing his astonishment. " Alone? " he added. 
 
 " Yes," said the clerk. 
 
 Hurstwood turned away and set his lips so as best to 
 express and conceal his feelings. 
 
 "How's that?" he thought. "They've had a row." 
 
 He hastened to his room with rising spirits and changed
 
 SISTER CARRIE 28 1 
 
 his linen. As he did so, he made up his mind that if Car- 
 rie was alone, or if she had gone to another place, it be- 
 hooved him to find out. He decided to call at once. 
 
 "I know what I'll do," he thought. "I'll go to the 
 door and ask if Mr. Drouet is at home. -That will bring 
 out whether he is there or not and where Carrie is." 
 
 He was almost moved to some muscular display as he 
 thought of it. He decided to go immediately after supper. 
 
 On coming down from his room at six, he looked care- 
 fully about to see if Drouet was present and then went 
 out to lunch. He could scarcely eat, however, he was so 
 anxious to be about his errand. Before starting he 
 thought it well to discover where Drouet would be, and 
 returned to his hotel. 
 
 "Has Mr. Drouet gone out?" he asked of the clerk. 
 
 "No," answered the latter, "he's in his room. Do you 
 wish to send up a card?" 
 
 "No, I'll call around later," answered Hurstwood, and 
 strolled out. 
 
 He_took a Madison car and went direct to Ogden Place, 
 this time walking boldly up to the door. The chamber- 
 maid answered his knock. 
 
 "Is Mr. Drouet in?" said Hurstwood blandly. 
 
 "He is out of the city," said the girl, who had heard 
 Carrie tell this to Mrs. Hale. 
 
 "Is Mrs. Drouet in?" 
 
 "No, she has gone to the theatre." 
 
 "Is that so?" said Hurstwood, considerably taken 
 back; then, as if burdened with something important, 
 "You don't know to which theatre?" 
 
 The girl really had no idea where she had gone, but 
 not liking Hurstwood, and wishing to cause him trouble, 
 answered: "Yes, Hooley's." 
 
 "Thank you," returned the manager, and, tipping his 
 hat slightly, went awav.
 
 '282 SISTER CARRIL 
 
 " I'll look in at Hooley's," thought he, but as a mat- 
 ter of fact he did not. Before he had reached the cen- 
 tral portion of the city he thought the whole matter over 
 and decided it would be useless. As much as he longed 
 to see Carrie, he knew she would be with some one and 
 did not wish to intrude with his plea there. A little 
 later he might do so in the morning. Only in the 
 morning he had the lawyer question before him. 
 
 This little pilgrimage threw quite a wet blanket upon 
 his rising spirits. He was soon down again to his old 
 worry, and reached the resort anxious to find relief. Quite 
 a company of gentlemen were making the place lively 
 with their conversation. A group of Cook County poli- 
 ticians were conferring about a round cherry-wood table 
 in the rear portion of the room. Several young merry- 
 makers were chattering at the bar before making a be- 
 lated visit to the theatre. A shabbily-genteel individual, 
 with a red nose and an old high hat, was sipping a quiet 
 glass of ale alone at one end of the bar. Hurstwood 
 nodded to the politicians and went into his office. 
 
 About ten o'clock a friend of his, Mr. Frank L. Taintor, 
 a local sport and racing man, dropped in, and seeing 
 Hurstwood alone in his office came to the door. 
 
 " Hello, George! " he exclaimed. 
 
 "How are you, Frank?" said Hurstwood, somewhat 
 relieved by the sight of him. " Sit down," and he mo- 
 tioned him to one of the chairs in the little room. 
 
 " What's the matter, George? " asked Taintor. " You 
 look a little glum. Haven't lost at the track, have you? " 
 
 " I'm not feeling very well to-night. I had a slight cold 
 the other day." 
 
 " Take whiskey, George," said Taintor. " You ought 
 to know that." 
 
 Hurstwood smiled. 
 
 While they were still conferring there, several other of
 
 SISTER CARRIE 283 
 
 Hurstwood's friends entered, and not long- after eleven, 
 the theatres being out, some actors began to drop in 
 among them some notabilities. 
 
 Then began one of those pointless social conversations 
 so common in American resorts where the would-be gilded 
 attempt to rub off gilt from those who have it in abun- 
 dance. If Hurstwood had one leaning, it was toward 
 notabilities. He considered that, if anywhere, he be-* 
 longed among them. He was too proud to toady, too 
 keen not to strictly observe the plane he occupied when 
 there were those present who did not appreciate him, but, 
 in situations like the present, where he could shine as a 
 gentleman and be received without equivocation as a 
 friend and equal among men of known ability, he was 
 most delighted. It was on such occasions, if ever, that 
 he would " take something." When the social flavour 
 was strong enough he would even unbend to the extent 
 of drinking glass for glass with his associates, punctili- 
 ously observing his turn to pay as if he were an outsider 
 like the others. If he ever approached intoxication or 
 rather that ruddy warmth and comfortableness which 
 precedes the more sloven state it was when individuals 
 such as these were gathered about him, when he was one 
 of a circle of chatting celebrities. To-night, disturbed as 
 was his state, he was rather relieved to find company, and 
 now that notabilities were gathered, he laid aside his 
 troubles for the nonce, and joined in right heartily. 
 
 It was not long before the imbibing began to tell. 
 Stories began to crop up those ever-enduring, droll sto- 
 ries which form the major portion of the conversation 
 among American men under such circumstances. 
 
 Twelve o'clock arrived, the hour for closing, and with 
 it the company took leave. Hurstwood shook hands with 
 them most cordially. He was very roseate physically. 
 He had arrived at that state where his mind, though clear,
 
 284 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 was, nevertheless, warm in its fancies. He felt as if his 
 troubles were not very serious. Going into his office, he 
 began to turn over certain accounts, awaiting the depar- 
 ture of the bartenders and the cashier, who soon left. 
 
 It was the manager's duty, as well as his custom, after 
 all were gone to see that everything was safely closed up 
 for the night. As a rule, no money except the cash taken 
 in after banking hours was kept about the place, and that 
 was locked in the safe by the cashier, who, with the own- 
 ers, was joint keeper of the secret combination, but, never- 
 theless, Hurstwood nightly took the precaution to try the 
 cash drawers and the safe in order to see that they were 
 tightly closed. Then he would lock his own little office 
 and set the proper light burning near the safe, after which 
 he would take his departure. 
 
 Never in his experience had he found anything out of 
 order, but to-night, after shutting down his desk, he came 
 out and tried the safe. His way was to give a sharp pull. 
 This time the door responded. He was slightly surprised 
 at that, and looking in found the money cases as left for 
 the day, apparently unprotected. His first thought was, 
 of course, to inspect the drawers and shut the door. 
 
 " I'll speak to Mayhew about this to-morrow," he 
 thought. 
 
 The latter had certainly imagined upon going out a half- 
 hour before that he had turned the knob on the door so 
 as to spring the lock. He had never failed. to do so be- 
 fore.. But to-night Mayhew had other thoughts. He 
 had been revolving the problem of a business of his own. 
 
 " I'll look in here," thought the manager, pulling out 
 the money drawers. He did not know why he wished 
 to look in there. It was quite a superfluous action, which 
 another time might not have happened at all. 
 
 As he did so, a layer of bills, in parcels of a thousand, 
 such as banks issue, caught his eye. He could not tell
 
 SISTER CARRIE 285 
 
 how much they represented, but paused to view them. 
 Then he pulled out the second of the cash drawers. In 
 that were the receipts of the day. 
 
 " I didn't know Fitzgerald and Moy ever left any money 
 this way," his mind said to itself. " They must have 
 forgotten it." 
 
 He looked at the other drawer and paused again. 
 
 " Count them," said a voice in his ear. 
 
 He put his hand into the first of the boxes and lifted the 
 stack, letting the separate parcels fall. They were bills 
 of fifty and one hundred dollars done in packages of a 
 thousand. He thought he counted ten such. 
 
 " Why don't I shut the safe? " his mind said to itself, 
 lingering. " What makes me pause here? " 
 
 For answer there came the strangest words : 
 
 " Did you ever have ten thousand dollars in ready 
 money?" 
 
 Lo, the manager remembered that he had never had so 
 much. All his property had been slowly accumulated, 
 and now his wife owned that. He was worth more than 
 forty thousand, all told but she would get that. 
 
 He puzzled as he thought of these things, then pushed 
 in the drawers and closed the door, pausing with his hand 
 upon the knob, which might so easily lock it all beyond 
 temptation. Still he paused. Finally he went to the 
 windows and pulled down the curtains. Then he tried 
 the door, which he had previously locked. What was this 
 thing, making him suspicious? Why did he wish to move 
 about so quietly. He came back to the end of the counter 
 as if to rest his arm and think. Then he went and un- 
 locked his little office door and turned on the light. He. 
 also opened his desk, sitting down before it, only to think 
 strange thoughts. 
 
 " The safe is open," said a voice. " There is just the 
 least little crack in it. The lock has not been sprung."
 
 -286 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 The manager floundered among a jumble of thoughts. 
 Now all the entanglement of the day came back. Also 
 the thought that here was a solution. That money would 
 do it. If he had that and Carrie. He rose up and stood 
 stock-still, looking at the floor. 
 
 "What about it?" his mind asked, and for answer he 
 put his hand slowly up and scratched his head. 
 
 The manager was no fool to be led blindly away by such 
 an errant proposition as this, but his situation was pecu- 
 liar. W.ine was in his veins. It had crept up into his 
 head and given him a warm view of the situation. It also 
 coloured the possibilities of ten thousand for him. He 
 could see great opportunities with that. He could get 
 Carrie. Oh, yes, he could ! He could get rid of his wife. 
 That letter, too, was waiting discussion to-morrow morn- 
 ing. He would not need to answer that. He went back 
 to the safe and put his hand on the knob. Then he pulled 
 the door open and took the drawer with the money quite 
 out. 
 
 With it once out and before him, it seemed a foolish 
 thing to think about leaving it. Certainly it would. Why, 
 he could live quietly with Carrie for years. 
 
 Lord! what was that? For the first time he was tense, 
 as if a stern hand had been laid upon his shoulder. He 
 looked fearfully around. Not a soul was present. Not 
 a sound. Some one was shuffling by on the sidewalk. 
 He took the box and the money and put it back in the 
 safe. Then he partly closed the door again. 
 
 To those who have never wavered in conscience, the 
 predicament of the individual whose mind is less strongly 
 constituted and who trembles in the balance between duty 
 and desire is scarcely appreciable, unless graphically por- 
 trayed. Those who have never heard that solemn voice 
 of the ghostly clock which ticks with awful distinctness, 
 " thou shalt," " thou shalt not," " thou shalt," " thou shalt
 
 SISTER CARRIE 287 
 
 not," are in no position to judge. Not alone in sensi- 
 tive, highly organised natures is such a mental conflict 
 possible. The dullest specimen of humanity, when drawn 
 by desire toward evil, is recalled by a sense of right, which 
 is proportionate in power and strength to his evil ten- 
 dency. We must remember that it may not be a knowl- 
 edge of right, for no knowledge of right is predicated of 
 the animal's instinctive recoil at evil. Men are still led 
 by instinct before they are regulated by knowledge. It 
 is instinct which recalls the criminal it is instinct (where 
 highly organised reasoning is absent) which gives the 
 criminal his feeling of danger, his fear of wrong. 
 
 At every first adventure, then, into some untried evil, 
 the mind wavers. The clock of thought ticks out its wish 
 and its denial. To those who have never experienced 
 such a mental dilemma, the following will appeal on the 
 simple ground of revelation. 
 
 When Hurstwood put the money back, his nature again 
 resumed its ease and daring. No one had observed him. 
 He was quite alone. No one could tell what he wished 
 to do. He could work this thing out for himself. 
 
 The imbibation of the evening had not yet worn off. 
 Moist as was his brow, tremble as did his hand once after 
 the nameless fright, he was still flushed with the fumes of 
 liquor. He scarcely noticed that the time was passing. 
 He went over his situation once again, his eye always see- 
 ing the money in a lump, his mind always seeing what it 
 would do. He strolled into his little room, then to 
 the door, then to the safe again. He put his hand on the 
 knob and opened it. There was the money! Surely no 
 harm could come from looking at it! 
 
 He took out the drawer again and lifted the bills. They 
 were so smooth, so compact, so portable. How little they 
 made, after all. He decided he would take them. Yes, 
 he would. He would put them in his pocket. Then he
 
 288 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 looked at that and saw they would not go there. His hand 
 satchel! To be sure, his hand satchel. They would go 
 in that all of it would. Xo one would think anything of 
 it either. He went into the little ofrice and took it from 
 the shelf in the corner. Now lie set it upon his desk and 
 went out toward the safe. For some reason he did not 
 want to fill it out in the big room. 
 
 First he brought the bills and then the loose receipts of 
 the day. He would take it all. He put the empty draw- 
 ers back and pushed the iron door almost to, then stood 
 beside it meditating. 
 
 The wavering of a mind under such circumstances is an 
 almost inexplicable thing, and yet it is absolutely true. 
 Hurstwood could not bring himself to act definitely. He 
 wanted to think about it to ponder over it, to decide 
 whether it were best. He was drawn by such a keen de- 
 sire for Carrie, driven by such a state of turmoil in bis own 
 affairs that he thought constantly it would be .best, 
 and yet he wavered. He did not know what evil might 
 result from it to him how soon he might come to grief. 
 The true ethics of the situation never once occurred to 
 him, and never would have, under any circumstances. 
 
 After he had all the money in the hand bag, a revulsion 
 of feeling seized him. He would not do it no! Think 
 of what a scandal it would make. The police! They 
 would be after him. He would have to fly, and where? 
 Oh, the terror of being a fugitive from justice! He took 
 out the two boxes and put all the money back. In his ex- 
 citement he forgot what he was doing, and put the sums 
 in the wrong boxes. As he pushed the door to, he 
 thought he remembered doing it wrong and opened the 
 door again. There were the two boxes mixed. 
 
 He took them out and straightened the matter, but now 
 the terror had gone. Why be afraid? 
 
 While the money was in his hand the lock clicked. It
 
 SISTER CARRIE 289 
 
 had sprung ! Did he do it ? He grabbed at the knob and 
 pulled vigorously. It had closed. Heavens! he was in 
 for it now, sure enough. 
 
 The moment he realised that the safe was locked for a 
 surety, the sweat burst out upon his brow and he trembled 
 violently. He looked about him and decided instantly. 
 There was no delaying now. 
 
 " Supposing I do lay it on the top," he said, " and go 
 away, they'll know who took it. I'm the last to close up, 
 Besides, other things will happen." 
 
 At once he became the man of action. 
 
 " I must get out of this," he thought. 
 
 He hurried into his little room, took down his light 
 overcoat and hat, locked his desk, and grabbed the satchel. 
 Then he turned out all but one light and opened the door. 
 He tried to put on his old assured air, but it was almost 
 gone. He was repenting rapidly. 
 
 " I wish I hadn't done that," he said. " That was a 
 mistake." 
 
 He walked steadily down the street, greeting a night 
 watchman whom he knew who was trying doors. He 
 must get out of the city, and that quickly. 
 
 " I wonder how the trains run? " he thought. 
 
 Instantly he pulled out his watch and looked. It was 
 nearly half-past one. 
 
 At the first drug store he stopped, seeing a long-dis- 
 tance telephone booth inside. It was a famous drug store, 
 and contained one of the first private telephone booths 
 ever erected. 
 
 " I want to use your 'phone a minute," he said to the 
 night clerk. 
 
 The latter nodded. 
 
 " Give me 1643," ne called to Central, after looking up 
 the Michigan Central depot number. Soon he got the 
 ticket agent.
 
 290 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 " How do the trains leave here for Detroit? " he asked 
 
 The man explained the hours. 
 
 " No more to-night? " 
 
 " Nothing with a sleeper. Yes, there is, too," he added, 
 " There is a mail train out of here at three o'clock." 
 
 " All right," said Hurstwood. " What time does tha< 
 get to Detroit?" 
 
 He was thinking if he could only get there and cross 
 the river into Canada, he could take his time about getting 
 to Montreal. He was relieved to learn that it would reach 
 there by noon. 
 
 " Mayhew won't open the safe till nine," he thought. 
 " They can't get on my track before noon." 
 
 Then he thought of Carrie. With what speed must he 
 get her, if lie got her at ail. She would have to come 
 along. He jumped into the nearest cab standing by. 
 
 " To Ogden Place," he said sharply. " I'll give you a 
 dollar more if you make good time." 
 
 The cabby beat his horse into a sort of imitation gallop, 
 which was fairly fast, however. On the way Hurstwood 
 thought what to do. Reaching the number, he hurried 
 up the steps and did not spare the bell in waking the 
 servant. 
 
 " Is Mrs. Drouet in? " he asked. 
 
 " Yes," said the astonished girl. 
 
 " Tell her to dress and come to the door at once. Her 
 husband is in the hospital, injured, and wants to see her." 
 
 The servant girl hurried upstairs, convinced by the 
 man's strained and emphatic manner. 
 
 " What! " said Carrie, lighting the gas and searching 
 for her clothes. 
 
 " Mr. Drouet is hurt and in the hospital. He wants to 
 see you The cab's downstairs." 
 
 Carrie dressed very rapidly, and soon appeared below, 
 forgetting everything save the necessities.
 
 SISTER CARRIE 29? 
 
 " Drouet is hurt," said Hurstwood quickly. " He 
 wants to see you. Come quickly." 
 
 Carrie was so bewildered that she swallowed the whole 
 story. 
 
 " Get in," said Hurstwood, helping her and jumping 
 after.*^' 
 
 The cabby began to turn the horse around. 
 
 " Michigan Central depot," he said, standing up and 
 speaking so low that Carrie cold not hear, " as fast as 
 you can go."
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 A. PILGRIM, AN OUTLAW: THE SPIRIT DETAINED 
 
 The cab had not travelled a short block before Carrie, 
 settling herself and thoroughly waking in the night at- 
 mosphere, asked : 
 
 " What's the matter with him? Is he hurt badly? " 
 
 " It isn't anything very serious," Hurstwood said 
 solemnly. He was very much disturbed over his own 
 situation, and now that he had Carrie with him, he only 
 wanted to get safely out of reach of the law. There- 
 fore he was in no mood for anything save such words 
 as would further his plans distinctly. 
 
 Carrie did not forget that there was something to be 
 settled between her and Hurstwood, but the thought was 
 ignored in her agitation. The one thing was to finish 
 this strange pilgrimage. 
 
 "Where is he?" 
 
 " Way out on the South Side," said Hurstwood. 
 " We'll have to take the train. It's the quickest way." 
 
 Carrie said nothing, and the horse gambolled on. The 
 weirdness of the city by night held her attention. She 
 looked at the long receding rows of lamps and studied the 
 dark, silent houses. 
 
 " How did he hurt himself? " she asked meaning what 
 was the nature of his injuries. Hurstwood understood. 
 He hated to lie any more than necessary, and yet he 
 wanted no protests until he was out of danger. 
 
 " I don't know exactly," he said. " They just called me
 
 SISTER CARRIE 293 
 
 up to go and get you and bring you out. They said there 
 wasn't any need for alarm, but that I shouldn't fail to 
 bring you." 
 
 The man's serious manner convinced Carrie, and she 
 became silent, wondering. 
 
 Hurstwood examined his watch and urged the man to 
 hurry. For one in so delicate a position he was exceed- 
 ingly cool. He could only think of how needful it was 
 to make the train and get quietly away. Carrie seemed 
 quite tractable, and he congratulated himself. 
 
 In due time they reached the depot, and after helping 
 her out he handed the man a five-dollar bill and hurried 
 on. 
 
 " You wait here," he said to Carrie, when they reached 
 the waiting-room, " while I get the tickets." 
 
 " Have I much time to catch that train for Detroit? " 
 he asked of the agent. 
 
 " Four minutes," said the latter. 
 
 He paid for two tickets as circumspectly as possible. 
 
 " Is it far? " said Carrie, as he hurried back. 
 
 " Not very," he said. " We must get right in." 
 
 He pushed her before him at the gate, stood between 
 her and the ticket man while the latter punched their 
 tickets, so that she could not see, and then hurried after. 
 
 There was a long line of express and passenger cars 
 and one or two common day coaches. As the train had 
 only recently been made up and few passengers were 
 expected, there were only one or two brakemen waiting. 
 They entered the rear day coach and sat down. Almost 
 immediately, " All aboard," resounded faintly from the 
 outside, and the train started. 
 
 Carrie began to think it was a little bit curious this go- 
 ing to a depot but said nothing. The whole incident was 
 so out of the natural that she did not attach too much 
 weierht to anything she imagined.
 
 294 
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 "How have you been ?" asked Hurstwood gently, for 
 he now breathed easier. 
 
 " Very well," said Carrie, who was so disturbed that 
 she could not bring a proper attitude to bear in the mat- 
 ter. She was still nervous to reach Drouet and see what 
 could be the matter. Hurstwood contemplated her and 
 felt this. He was not disturbed that it should be so. He 
 did not trouble because she was moved sympathetically 
 in the matter. It was one of the qualities in her which 
 pleased him exceedingly. He was only thinking how he 
 should explain. Even this was not the most serious thing 
 in his mind, however. His own deed and present flight 
 were the great shadows which weighed upon him. 
 
 " What a fool I was to do that," he said over and over. 
 " What a mistake! " 
 
 In his sober senses, he could scarcely realise that the 
 thing had been done. He could not begin to feel that he 
 was a fugitive from justice. He had often read of such 
 things, and had thought they must be terrible, but now 
 that the thing was upon him, he only sat and looked into 
 the past. The future was a thing which concerned the 
 Canadian line. He wanted to reach that. As for the 
 rest, he surveyed his actions for the evening, and counted 
 them parts of a great mistake. 
 
 " Still," he said, " what could I have done? " 
 
 Then he would decide to make the best of it, and would 
 begin to do so by starting the whole inquiry over again. 
 It was a fruitless, harassing round, and left him in a queer 
 mood to deal with the proposition he had in the presence 
 of Carrie. 
 
 The train clacked through the yards along the lake 
 front, and ran rather slowly to Twenty-fourth Street. 
 Brakes and signals were visible without. The engine gave 
 short calls with its whistle, and frequently the bell rang. 
 Several brakemen came through, bearing lanterns. They
 
 SISTER CARRIE 295 
 
 were locking the vestibules and putting the cars in order 
 for a long run. 
 
 Presently it began to gain speed, and Carrie saw the 
 silent streets flashing by in rapid succession. The engine 
 also began its whistle-calls of four parts, with which it 
 signalled danger to important crossings. 
 
 " Is it very far? " asked Carrie. 
 
 " Not so very," said Hurstwood. He could hardly re- 
 press a smile at her simplicity. He wanted to explain and 
 conciliate her, but he also wanted to be well out of 
 Chicago. 
 
 In the lapse of another half-hour it became apparent to 
 Carrie that it was quite a run to wherever he was taking 
 her, anyhow. 
 
 " Is it in Chicago? " she asked nervously. They were 
 now far beyond the city limits, and the train was scudding 
 across the Indiana line at a great rate. 
 
 " No," he said, " not where we are going." 
 
 There was something in the way he said this whick 
 aroused her in an instant. 
 
 Her pretty brow began to contract. 
 
 "We are going to see Charlie, aren't we?" she 
 asked. 
 
 He felt that the time was up. An explanation might as 
 well come now as later. Therefore, he shook his head 
 in the most gentle negative. 
 
 "What?" said Carrie. She was nonplussed at the 
 possibility of the errand being different from what she had 
 thought. 
 
 He only looked at her in the most kindly and mollifying 
 way. 
 
 " Well, where are you taking me, then? " she asked, her 
 voice showing the quality of fright. 
 
 " I'll tell you, Carrie, if you'll be quiet. I want you to 
 come along with me to another city."
 
 296 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 " Oh," said Carrie, her voice rising into a weak cry. 
 " Let me off. I don't want to go with you." 
 
 She was quite appalled at the man's audacity. This 
 was something which had never for a moment entered her 
 head. Her one thought now was to get off and away, 
 [f only the flying train could be stopped, the terrible trick 
 would be amended. 
 
 She arose and tried to push out into the aisle any- 
 where. She knew she had to do something. Hurstwood 
 laid a gentle hand on her. 
 
 " Sit still, Carrie," he said. " Sit still. It won't do you 
 any good to get up here. Listen to me and I'll tell you 
 Tvhat I'll do. Wait a moment." 
 
 She was pushing at his knees, but he only pulled her 
 back. No one saw this little altercation, for very few 
 persons were in the car, and they were attempting to doze. 
 
 " I won't," said Carrie, who was, nevertheless, comply- 
 ing against her will. " Let me go," she said. " How 
 dare you ? " and large tears began to gather in her eyes. 
 
 Hurstwood was now fully aroused to the immediate 
 difficulty, and ceased to think of his own situation. He 
 must do something with this girl, or she would cause him 
 trouble. He tried the art of persuasion with all his 
 powers aroused. 
 
 " Look here now, Carrie," he said, " you mustn't act 
 this way. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. I don't 
 want to do anything to make you feel bad." 
 
 "Oh," sobbed Carrie, "oh, oh oo o!" 
 
 " There, there," he said, " you mustn't cry. Won't you 
 listen to me? Listen to me a minute, and I'll tell you 
 why I came to do this thing. I couldn't help it. I assure 
 you I couldn't. Won't you listen? " 
 
 Her sobs disturbed him so that he was quite sure she 
 did not hear a word he said. 
 
 " Won't you listen? " he asked.
 
 SISTER CARRIE 297 
 
 " No, I won't," said Carrie, flashing up. " I want you 
 to take me out of this, or I'll tell the conductor. I won't 
 go with you. It's a shame," and again sobs of fright cut 
 off her desire for expression. 
 
 Hurstwood listened with some astonishment. He felt 
 that she had just cause for feeling as she did, and yet he 
 wished that he could straighten this thing out quickly. 
 Shortly the conductor would come through for the tickets. 
 He wanted no noise, no trouble of any kind. Before 
 everything he must make her quiet. 
 
 " You couldn't get out until the train stops again," said 
 Hurstwood. " It won't be very long until we reach an- 
 other station. You can get out then if you want to. I 
 won't stop you. All I want you to do is to listen a mo- 
 ment. You'll let me tell you, won't you? " 
 
 Carrie seemed not to listen. She only turned her head 
 toward the window, where outside all was black. The 
 train was speeding with steady grace across the fields and 
 through patches of wood. The long whistles came with 
 sad, musical effect as the lonely woodland crossings were 
 approached. 
 
 Now the conductor entered the car and took up the one 
 or two fares that had been added at Chicago. He ap- 
 proached Hurstwood, who handed out the tickets. Poised 
 as she was to act, Carrie made no move. She did not 
 look about. 
 
 When the conductor had gone again Hurstwood felt 
 relieved. 
 
 " You're angry at me because I deceived you," he 
 said. " I didn't mean to, Carrie. As I live I didn't. I 
 couldn't help it. I couldn't stay away from you after 
 the first time I saw you." 
 
 He was ignoring the last deception as something that 
 might go by the board. He wanted to convince her that 
 his wife could no longer be a factor in their relationship
 
 298 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 The money he had stolen he tried to shut out of his 
 mind. 
 
 " Don't talk to me," said Carrie, " I hate you. I want 
 you to go away from me. I am going to get out at the 
 very next station." 
 
 She was in a tremble of excitement and opposition as 
 she spoke. 
 
 " All right," he said, " but you'll hear me out, won't 
 you? After all you have said about loving me, you might 
 hear me. I don't want to do you any harm. I'll give 
 you the money to go back with when you go. I merely 
 want to tell you, Carrie. You can't stop me from loving 
 you, whatever you may think." 
 
 He looked at her tenderly, but received no reply. 
 
 " You think I have deceived you badly, but I haven't. 
 I didn't do it willingly. I'm through with my wife. She 
 hasn't any claims on me. I'll never see her any more. 
 That's why I'm here to-night. That's why I came and 
 got you." 
 
 " You said Charlie was hurt," said Carrie, savagely. 
 " You deceived me. You've been deceiving me all the 
 time, and now you want to force me to run away with 
 you." 
 
 She was so excited that she got up and tried to get by 
 him again. He let her, and she took another seat. Then 
 he followed. 
 
 " Don't run away from me, Carrie," he said gently. 
 " Let me explain. If you will only hear me out you will 
 see where I stand. I tell you my wife is nothing to me. 
 She hasn't been anything for years or I wouldn't have 
 ever come near you. I'm going to get a divorce just as 
 soon as I can. I'll never see her again. I'm done with 
 all that. You're the only person I want. If I can have 
 you I won't ever think of another woman again." 
 
 Carrie heard all this in a very ruffled state. It sounded
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 299 
 
 sincere enough, however, despite ail he had done. There 
 was a tenseness in Hurstwood's voice and manner which 
 could but have some effect. She did not want anything 
 to do with him. He was married, he had deceived her 
 once, and now again, and she thought him terrible. Still 
 there is something in such daring and power which i* 
 fascinating to a woman, especially if she can be made to 
 feel that it is all prompted by love of her. 
 
 The progress of the train was having a great deal to do 
 with the solution of this difficult situation. The speeding 
 wheels and disappearing country put Chicago farther and 
 farther behind. Carrie could feel that she was being 
 borne a long distance off that the engine was making 
 an almost through run to some distant city. She felt at 
 times as if she could cry out and make such a row that 
 some one would come to her aid; at other times it seemed 
 an almost useless thing so far was she from any aid, no 
 matter what she did. All the while Hurstwood was en- 
 deavouring to formulate his plea in such a way that it 
 would strike home and bring her into sympathy with 
 him. 
 
 " I was simply put where I didn't know what else to do." 
 
 Carrie deigned no suggestion of hearing this. 
 
 " When I saw you wouldn't come unless I could marry 
 you, I decided to put everything else behind me and get 
 you to come away with me. I'm going off now to an- 
 other city. I want to go to Montreal for a while, and 
 then anywhere you want to. We'll go and live in New 
 York, if you say." 
 
 " I'll not have anything to do with you," said Carrie. 
 " I want to get off this train. Where are we going? " 
 
 " To Detroit," said Hurstwood. 
 
 " Oh! " said Carrie, in a burst of anguish. So distant 
 and definite a point seemed to increase the difficulty. 
 
 " Won't you come along with me? " he said, as if there^
 
 300 
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 was great danger that she would not. " You won't need 
 to do anything but travel with me. I'll not trouble you 
 in any way. You can see Montreal and New York, and 
 then if you don't want to stay you can go back. It will 
 be better than trying to go back to-night." 
 
 The first gleam of fairness shone in this proposition for 
 Carrie. It seemed a plausible thing to do, much as she 
 feared his opposition if she tried to carry it out. Mon- 
 treal and New York! Even now she was speeding to- 
 ward those great, strange lands, and could see them if she 
 liked. She thought, but made no sign. 
 
 Hurstwood thought he saw a shade of compliance in 
 this. He redoubled his ardour. 
 
 " Think," he said, " what I've given up. I can't go 
 back to Chicago any more. I've got to stay away and 
 live alone now, if you don't come with me. You won't 
 go back on me entirely, will you, Carrie? " 
 
 " I don't want you to talk to me," she answered forcibly. 
 
 Hurstwood kept silent for a while. 
 
 Carrie felt the train to be slowing down. It was the 
 moment to act if she was to act at all. She stirred un- 
 easily. 
 
 " Don't think of going, Carrie," he said. " If you ever 
 cared for me at all, come along and let's start right. I'll 
 do whatever you say. I'll marry you, or I'll let you go 
 back. Give yourself time to think it over. I wouldn't 
 have wanted you to come if I hadn't loved you. I tell 
 you, Carrie, before God, I can't live without you. I 
 won't! " 
 
 There was the tensity of fierceness in the man's plea 
 which appealed deeply to her sympathies. It was a dis- 
 solving fire which was actuating him now. He was lov- 
 ing her too intensely to think of giving her up in this, 
 his hour of distress. He clutched her hand nervously 
 and pressed it with all the force of an appeal.
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 301 
 
 The train was now all but stopped. It was running by 
 some cars on a side track. Everything outside was dark 
 and dreary. A few sprinkles on the window began to 
 indicate that it was raining. Carrie hung in a quandary, 
 balancing between decision and helplessness. Now the 
 train stopped, and she was listening to his plea. The 
 engine backed a few feet and all was still. 
 
 Slie wavered, totally unable to make a move. Minute 
 after minute slipped by and still she hesitated, he pleading. 
 
 " Will you let me come back if I want to? " she asked, 
 as if she now had the upper hand and her companion was 
 utterly subdued. 
 
 " Of course," he answered, " you know I will." 
 
 Carrie only listened as one who has granted a tem- 
 porary amnesty. She began to feel as if the matter were 
 in her hands entirely. 
 
 The train was again in rapid motion. Hurstwood 
 changed the subject. 
 
 " Aren't you very tired ? " he said. 
 
 " No," she answered. 
 
 " Won't you let me get you a berth in the sleeper? " 
 
 She shook her head, though for all her distress and his 
 trickery she was beginning to notice what she had al- 
 ways felt his though tfulness. 
 
 " Oh, yes," he said, " you will feel so much better." 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 " Let me fix my coat for you, anyway," and he arose 
 and arranged his light coat in a comfortable position 
 to receive her head. 
 
 " There," he said tenderly, " now see if you can't rest 
 a little." He could have kissed her for her compliance. 
 He took his seat beside her and thought a moment. 
 
 " I believe we're in for a heavy rain," he said. 
 
 " So it looks," said Carrie, whose nerves were quiet- 
 ing under the sound of the rain drops, driven by a gustj
 
 302 
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 wind, as the train swept on frantically through the 
 shadow to a newer world. 
 
 The fact that he had in a measure mollified Carrie was 
 a source of satisfaction to Hurstwood, but it furnished 
 only the most temporary relief. Now that her opposition 
 was out of the way, he had all of his time to devote to the 
 consideration of his own error. 
 
 His condition was bitter in the extreme, for he did not 
 want the miserable sum he had stolen. He did not want 
 to be a thief. That sum or any other could never com~ 
 pensate for the state which he had thus foolishly doffed. 
 It could not give him back his host of friends, his name, 
 his house and family, nor Carrie, as he had meant to have 
 her. He was shut out from Chicago from his easy, com- 
 fortable state. He had robbed himself of his dignity, his 
 merry meetings, his pleasant evenings. And for what? 
 The more he thought of it the more unbearable it became. 
 He began to think that he would try and restore himself 
 to his old state. He would return the miserable thiev- 
 ings of the night and explain. Perhaps Moy would 
 understand. Perhaps they would forgive him and let 
 him come back. 
 
 By noontime the train rolled into Detroit and he began 
 to feel exceedingly nervous. The police must be on his 
 track by now. They had probably notified all the police 
 of the big cities, and detectives would be watching for him. 
 He remembered instances in which defaulters had been 
 captured. Consequently, he breathed heavily and paled 
 somewhat. His hands felt as if they must have some- 
 thing to do. He simulated interest in several scenes with- 
 out which he did not feel. He repeatedly beat his foot 
 upon the floor. 
 
 Carrie noticed his agitation, but said nothing. She had 
 no idea what it meant or that it was important. 
 
 He wondered now why he had not asked whether this
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 303 
 
 train went on through to Montreal or some Canadian 
 point. Perhaps he could have saved time. He jumped up 
 and sought the conductor. 
 
 " Does any part of this train go to Montreal? " he asked. 
 
 " Yes, the next sleeper back does." 
 
 He would have asked more, but it did not seem wise, 
 so he decided to inquire at the depot. 
 
 The train rolled into the yards, clanging and puffing. 
 
 " I think we had better go right on through to Mon^ 
 treal," he said to Carrie. " I'll see what the connections 
 are when we get off." 
 
 He was exceedingly nervous, but did his best to put on 
 a calm exterior. Carrie only looked at him with large, 
 troubled eyes. She was drifting mentally, unable to say 
 to herself what to do. 
 
 The train stopped and Hurstwood led the way out. 
 He looked warily around him, pretending to look after 
 Carrie. Seeing nothing that indicated studied observa- 
 tion, he made his way to the ticket office. 
 
 " The next train for Montreal leaves when ? " he asked. 
 
 " In twenty minutes," said the man. 
 
 He. bought two tickets and Pullman berths. Then he 
 hastened back to Carrie. 
 
 " We go right out again," he said, scarcely noticing 
 that Carrie looked tired and weary. 
 
 " I wish I was out of all this," she exclaimed gloomily. 
 
 " You'll feel better when we reach Montreal," he 
 said. 
 
 " I haven't an earthly thing with me," said Carrie; 
 " not even a handkerchief." 
 
 " You can buy all you want as soon as you get there, 
 dearest," he explained. " You can call in a dressmaker." 
 
 Now the crier called the train ready and they got on. 
 Hurstwood breathed a sigh of relief as it started. There 
 was a short run to the river, and there they were ferried
 
 304 
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 over. They had barely pulled the train off the ferry-boat 
 when he settled back with a sigh. 
 
 " It won't be so very long now," he said, remembering 
 her in his relief. " We get there the first thing in the 
 morning." 
 
 Carrie scarcely deigned to reply. 
 
 " I'll see if there is a dining-car," he added. " I'm 
 hungry."
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 THE SOLACE OF TRAVEL: THE BOATS OF THE SEA 
 
 To the untravelled, territory other than their own fa- 
 miliar heath is invariably fascinating. Next to love, it is 
 the one thing which solaces and delights. Things new 
 are too important to be neglected, and mind, which is a 
 mere reflection of sensory impressions, succumbs to the 
 flood of objects. Thus lovers are forgotten, sorrows laid 
 aside, death hidden from view. There is a world of ac- 
 cumulated feeling back of the trite dramatic expression 
 " I am going away." 
 
 As Carrie looked out upon the flying scenery she al- 
 most forgot that she had been tricked into this long jour- 
 ney against her will and that she was without the neces- 
 sary apparel for travelling. She quite forgot Hurst- 
 wood's presence at times, and looked away to homely 
 farmhouses and cosey cottages in villages with wondering 
 eyes. It was an interesting world to her. Her life had just 
 begun. She did not feel herself defeated at all. Neither 
 was she blasted in hope. The great city held much. Pos- 
 sibly she would come out of bondage into freedom who 
 knows? Perhaps she would be happy. These thoughts 
 raised her above the level of erring. She was saved in 
 that she was hopeful. 
 
 The following morning the train pulled safely into 
 Montreal and they stepped down, Hurstwood glad to be 
 out of danger, Carrie wondering at the novel atmos- 
 phere of the northern city. Long before, Hurstwood 
 had been here, and now he remembered the name of
 
 306 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 the hotel at which he had stopped. As they came out 
 of the main entrance of the depot he heard it called 
 anew by a busman. 
 
 " We'll go right up and get rooms," he said. 
 
 At the clerk's office Hurstwood swung the register 
 about while the clerk came forward. He was thinking 
 what name he would put down. With the latter be- 
 fore him he found no time for hesitation. A name 
 he had seen out of the car window came swiftly to him. 
 It was pleasing enough. With an easy hand he wrote, 
 " G. W. Murdock and wife." It was the largeyt con- 
 cession to necessity he felt like making. His initials 
 he could not spare. 
 
 When they were shown their room Carrie saw at 
 once that he had secured her a lovely chamber. 
 
 " You have a bath there," said he. " Now you can 
 clean up when you get ready." 
 
 Carrie went over and looked out the window, while 
 Hurstwood looked at himself in the glass. He felt 
 dusty and unclean. He had no trunk, no change of 
 linen, not even a hair-brush. 
 
 " I'll ring for soap and towels," he said, " and send 
 you up a hair-brush. Then you can bathe and get 
 ready for breakfast. I'll go for a shave and come back 
 and get you, and then we'll go out and look for some 
 clothes for you." 
 
 He smiled good-naturedly as he said this. 
 
 " All right," said Carrie. 
 
 She sat down in one of the rocking-chairs, while 
 Hurstwood waited for the boy, who soon knocked. 
 
 " Soap, towels, and a pitcher of ice-water." 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " I'll go now," he said to Carrie, coming toward her 
 and holding out his hands, but she did not move to take 
 them.
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 307 
 
 " You're not mad at me, are you ? " he asked softly. 
 
 " Oh, no ! " she answered, rather indifferently. 
 
 " Don't you care for me at all?" 
 
 She made no answer, but looked steadily toward the 
 window. 
 
 "Don't you think you could love me a little?" he 
 pleaded, taking one of her hands, which she endeav- 
 oured to draw away. " You once said you did." 
 
 " What made you deceive me so? " asked Carrie. 
 
 " I couldn't help it," he said, " I wanted you too 
 much." 
 
 " You didn't have any right to want me," she an- 
 swered, striking cleanly home. 
 
 " Oh, well, Carrie," he answered, " here I am. It's 
 too late now. Won't you try and care for me a 
 little?" 
 
 He looked rather worsted in thought as he stood be- 
 fore her. 
 
 She shook her head negatively. 
 
 " Let me start all over again. Be my wife from to- 
 day on." 
 
 Carrie rose up as if to step away, he holding her hand. 
 Now he slipped his arm about her and she struggled, 
 but in vain. He held her quite close. Instantly there 
 flamed up in his body the all-compelling desire. His 
 affection took an ardent form. 
 
 " Let me go," said Carrie, who was folded close to 
 him. 
 
 " Won't you love me ? " he said. " Won't you be mine 
 from now on ? " 
 
 Carrie had never been ill-disposed toward him. Only 
 a moment before she had been listening with some com- 
 placency, remembering her old affection for him. He 
 was so handsome, so daring ! 
 
 Now, however, this feeling had changed to one of
 
 j08 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 opposition, which rose feebly. It mastered her for a 
 moment, and then, held close as she was, began to 
 wane. Something else in her spoke. This man, to 
 whose bosom she was being pressed, was strong; he 
 was passionate, he loved her, and she was alone. If 
 she did not turn to him accept of his love where 
 else might she go? Her resistance half dissolved in 
 the flood of his strong feeling. 
 
 She found him lifting her head and looking into her 
 eyes. What magnetism there was she could never 
 know. His many sins, however, were for the moment 
 all forgotten. 
 
 He pressed her closer and kissed her, and she felt 
 that further opposition was useless. 
 
 " Will you marry me ? " she asked, forgetting how. 
 
 " This very day," he said, with all delight. 
 
 Now the hall-boy pounded on the door and he re- 
 leased his hold upon her regretfully. 
 
 " You get ready now, will you," he said, " at once ? " 
 
 " Yes," she answered. 
 
 " I'll be back in three-quarters of an hour." 
 
 Carrie, flushed and excited, moved away as he ad- 
 mitted the boy. 
 
 Below stairs, he halted in the lobby to look for a bar- 
 ber shop. For the moment, he was in fine feather. His 
 recent victory over Carrie seemed to atone for much he 
 bad endured during the last few days. Life seemed 
 worth fighting for. This eastward flight from all 
 things customary and attached seemed as if it might 
 have happiness in store. The storm showed a rainbow 
 at the end of which might be a pot of gold. 
 
 He was about to cross to a little red-and-white 
 striped bar which was fastened up beside a door when 
 a voice greeted him familiarly. Instantly his heart 
 aank.
 
 SISTER CARRIE 30^ 
 
 " Why, hello, George, old man ! " said the voice 
 " What are you doing down here ? " 
 
 Hurstwood was already confronted, and recognised 
 his friend Kenny, the stock-broker. 
 
 "Just attending to a little private matter," he an- 
 swered, his mind working like a key-board of a tele- 
 phone station. This man evidently did hot know he 
 had not read the papers. 
 
 " Well, it seems strange to see you way up here," 
 said Mr. Kenny genially. "Stopping here?" 
 
 " Yes," said Hurstwood uneasily, thinking of his 
 handwriting on the register. 
 
 " Going to be in town long? " 
 
 " No, only a day or so." 
 
 " Is that so? Had your breakfast?" 
 
 " Yes," said Hurstwood, lying blandly. " I'm just 
 going for a shave." 
 
 " Won't you come have a drink ? " 
 
 " Not until afterwards," said the ex-manager. " I'll 
 see you later. Are you stopping here? " 
 
 " Yes," said Mr. Kenny, and then, turning the word 
 again, added: "How are things out in Chicago?" 
 
 " About the same as usual," said Hurstwood, smiling 
 genially. 
 
 " Wife with you ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Well, I must see more of you to-day. I'm just 
 going in here for breakfast. Come in when you're 
 through." 
 
 " I will," said Hurstwood, moving away. The whole 
 conversation was a trial to him. It seemed to add com' 
 plications with every word. This man called up a 
 thousand memories. He represented everything he 
 had left. Chicago, his wife, the elegant resort all 
 these were in his greeting and inquiries. And here he
 
 3 io 
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 was in this same hotel expecting to confer with him, 
 unquestionably waiting to have a good time with him. 
 All at once the Chicago papers would arrive. The local 
 papers would have accounts in them this very day. He 
 forgot his triumph with Carrie in the possibility of 
 soon being known for what he was, in this man's eyes, 
 a safe-breaker. He could have groaned as he went 
 into the barber shop. He decided to escape and seek 
 a more secluded hotel. 
 
 Accordingly, when he came out he was glad to see 
 the lobby clear, and hastened toward the stairs. He 
 would get Carrie and go out by the ladies' entrance. 
 They would have breakfast in some more inconspicuous 
 place. 
 
 Across the lobby, however, another individual was 
 surveying him. He was of a commonplace Irish type, 
 small of stature, cheaply dressed, and with a head that 
 seemed a smaller edition of some huge ward politi- 
 cian's. This individual had been evidently talking with 
 the clerk, but now he surveyed the ex-manager keenly. 
 
 Hurstwood felt the long-range examination and rec- 
 ognised the type. Instinctively he felt that the man 
 was a detective that he wa being watched. He hur- 
 ried across, pretending not to notice, but in his mind 
 was a world of thoughts. What would happen now? 
 What could these people do? He began to trouble 
 concerning the extradition laws. He did not under- 
 stand them absolutely. Perhaps he could be arrested. 
 Oh, if Carrie should find out ! Montreal was too warm 
 for him. He began to long to be out of it. 
 
 Carrie had bathed and was waiting when he arrived. 
 She looked refreshed more delightful than ever, but 
 reserved. Since he had gone she had resumed some- 
 what of her cold attitude towards him. Love was not 
 blazing in her heart. He felt it, and his troubles seemed
 
 SISTER CARRIE 31 1 
 
 increased. He could not take her in his arms ; he did 
 not even try. Something about her forbade it. In 
 part his opinion was the result of his own experiences 
 and reflections below stairs. 
 
 " You're ready, are you ? " he said kindly. 
 
 " Yes," she answered. 
 
 " We'll go out for breakfast. This place down here 
 doesn't appeal to me very much." 
 
 " All right," said Carrie. 
 
 They went out, and at the corner the commonplace 
 Irish individual was standing, eyeing him. Hurst- 
 wood could scarcely refrain from showing that he knew 
 of this chap's presence. The insolence in the fellow's 
 eye was galling. Still they passed, and he explained to 
 Carrie concerning the city. Another restaurant was 
 not long in showing itself, and here they entered. 
 
 " What a queer town this is," said Carrie, who mar- 
 velled at it solely because K was not like Chicago. 
 
 " It isn't as lively as Chicago," said Hurstwood. 
 " Don't you like it? " 
 
 " No," said Carrie, whose feelings were already local- 
 ised in the great Western city. 
 
 " Well, it isn't as interesting," said Hurstwood. 
 
 " What's here ? " asked Carrie, wondering at his 
 choosing to visit this town. 
 
 " Nothing much," returned Hurstwood. " It's quite 
 a resort. There's some pretty scenery about here." 
 
 Carrie listened, but with a feeling of unrest. There 
 was much about her situation which destroyed the pos- 
 sibility of appreciation. 
 
 " We won't stay here long," said Hurstwood, who 
 was now really glad to note her dissatisfaction. " You 
 pick out your clothes as soon as breakfast is over and 
 we'll run down to New York soon. You'll like that. It's 
 a lot more like a city than any place outside Chicago."
 
 3 I2 
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 He was really planning to slip out and away. He 
 would see what these detectives would do what move 
 his employers at Chicago would make then he would 
 slip away down to New York, where it was easy to 
 hide. He knew enough about that city to know that 
 its mysteries and possibilities of mystification were 
 infinite. 
 
 The more he thought, however, the more wretched 
 his situation became. He saw that getting here did 
 not exactly clear up the ground. The firm would prob- 
 ably employ detectives to watch him Pinkerton men 
 or agents of Mooney and Boland. They might arrest 
 him the moment he tried to leave Canada. So he might 
 be compelled to remain here months, and in what a 
 state ! 
 
 Back at the hotel Hurstwood was anxious and yet 
 fearful to see the morning papers. He wanted to know 
 how far the news of his criminal deed had spread. So he 
 told Carrie he would be up in a few moments, and went 
 to secure and scan the dailies. No familiar or sus- 
 picious faces were about, and yet he did not like reading 
 in the lobby, so he sought the main parlour on the floor 
 above and, seated by a window there, looked them over. 
 Very little was given to his crime, but it was there, 
 several " sticks " in all, among all the riffraff of tele- 
 graphed murders, accidents, marriages, and other news. 
 He Dished, half sadly, that he could undo it all. Every 
 moment of his time in this far-off abode of safety but 
 added to his feeling that he had made a great mistake. 
 There could have been an easier way out if he had only 
 known. 
 
 He left the papers before going to the room, thinking 
 thus to keep them out of the hands of Carrie. 
 
 " Well, how are you feeling? " he asked of her. She 
 was engaged in looking out of the window.
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 313 
 
 " Oh, all right," she answered. 
 
 He came over, and was about to begin a conversation 
 with her, when a knock came at their door. 
 
 " Maybe it's one of my parcels," said Carrie. 
 
 Hurstwood opened the door, outside of which stood 
 the individual whom he had so thoroughly suspected. 
 
 " You're Mr. Hurstwood, are you ? " said the latter, 
 with a volume of affected shrewdness and assurance. 
 
 " Yes," said Hurstwood calmly. He knew the type 
 so thoroughly that some of his old familiar indifference 
 to it returned. Such men as these were of the lowest 
 stratum welcomed at the resort. He stepped out and 
 closed the door. 
 
 " Well, you know what I am here for, don't you?" 
 said the man confidentially. 
 
 " I can guess," said Hurstwood softly. 
 
 " Well, do you intend to try and keep the money?" 
 
 " That's my affair," said Hurstwood grimly. 
 
 " You can't do it, you know," said the detective, eye- 
 ing him coolly. 
 
 " Look here, my man," said Hurstwood authorita- 
 tively, " you don't understand anything about this case, 
 and I can't explain to you. Whatever I intend to do 
 I'll do without advice from the outside. You'll have to 
 excuse me." 
 
 " Well, now, there's no use of your talking that way," 
 said the man, " when you're in the hands of the police. 
 We can make a lot of trouble for you if we want to. 
 You're not registered right in this house, you haven't 
 got your wife with you, and the newspapers don't know 
 you're here yet. You might as well be reasonable." 
 
 " What do you want to know ? " asked Hurstwood. 
 
 " Whether you're going to send back that money or 
 not." 
 
 Hurstwood paused and studied the floor.
 
 3 i 4 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 " There's no use explaining to you about this," he 
 said at last. " There's no use of your asking me. I'm 
 no fool, you know. I know just what you can do and 
 what you can't. You can create a lot of trouble if you 
 want to. I know that all right, but it won't help you 
 to get the money. Now, I've made up my mind what 
 to do. I've already written Fitzgerald and Moy, so 
 there's nothing I can say. You wait until you hear 
 more from them." 
 
 All the time he had been talking he had been moving 
 away from the door, down the corridor, out of the 
 hearing of Carrie. They were now near the end where 
 the corridor opened into the large general parlour. 
 
 " You won't give it up? " said the man. 
 
 The words irritated Hurstwood greatly. Hot blood 
 poured into his brain. Many thoughts formulated 
 themselves. He was no thief. He didn't want the 
 money. If he could only explain to Fitzgerald and 
 Moy, maybe it would be all right again. 
 
 " See here," he said, " there's no use my talking about 
 this at all. I respect your power all right, but I'll have 
 to deal with the people who know." 
 
 " Well, you can't get out of Canada with it," said the 
 man. 
 
 " I don't want to get out," said Hurstwood. " When 
 I get ready there'll be nothing to stop me for." 
 
 He turned back, and the detective watched him 
 closely. It seemed an intolerable thing. Still he went 
 on and into the room. 
 
 " Who was it? " asked Carrie. 
 
 " A friend of mine from Chicago." 
 
 The whole of this conversation was such a shock 
 that, coming as it did after all the other worry of the 
 past week, it sufficed to induce a deep gloom and moral 
 revulsion in Hurstwood. What hurt him most was the
 
 SISTER CARRIE 315 
 
 fact that he was being pursued as a thief. He began 
 to see the nature of that social injustice which sees but 
 one side often but a single point in a long tragedy. 
 All the newspapers noted but one thing, his taking the 
 money. How and wherefore were but indifferently 
 dealt with. All the complications which led up to it 
 were unknown. He was accused without being under- 
 stood. 
 
 Sitting in his room with Carrie the same day, he de- 
 cided to send the money back. He would write Fitz- 
 gerald and Moy, explain all, and then send it by ex- 
 press. Maybe they would forgive him. Perhaps they 
 would ask him back. He would make good the false 
 statement he had made about writing them. Then he 
 would leave this peculiar town. 
 
 For an hour he thought over this plausible statement 
 of the tangle. He wanted to tell them about his wife, 
 but couldn't. He finally narrowed it down to an asser- 
 tion that he was light-headed from entertaining friends, 
 had found the safe open, and having gone so far as to 
 take the money out, had accidentally closed it. This act 
 he regretted very much. He was sorry he had put them 
 to so much trouble. He would undo what he could by 
 sending the money back the major portion of it. The 
 remainder he would pay up as soon as he could. Was 
 there any possibility of his being restored? This he 
 only hinted at. 
 
 The troubled state of the man's mind may be judged 
 by the very construction of this letter. For the nonce 
 he forgot what a painful thing it would be to resume his 
 old place, even if it were given him. He forgot that he 
 had severed himself from the past as by a sword, and 
 that if he did manage to in some way reunite himself 
 with it, the jagged line of separation and reunion would 
 always show. He was always forgetting something
 
 316 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 his wife, Carrie, his need of money, present situation, 
 or something and so did not reason clearly. Never- 
 theless, he sent the letter, waiting a reply before send- 
 ing the money. 
 
 Meanwhile, he accepted his present situation with 
 Carrie, getting what joy out of it he could. 
 
 Out came the sun by noon, and poured a golden 
 flood through their open windows. Sparrows were 
 twittering. There were laughter and song in the air. 
 Hurstwood could not keep his eyes from Carrie. She 
 seemed the one ray of sunshine in all his trouble. Oh, 
 if she would only love him wholly only throw her 
 arms around him in the blissful spirit in which he had 
 seen her in the little park in Chicago how happy he 
 would be ! It would repay him ; it would show him 
 that he had not lost all. He would not care. 
 
 " Carrie," he said, getting up once and coming over 
 to her, " are you going to stay with me from now on? " 
 
 She looked at him quizzically, but melted with sym- 
 pathy as the value of the look upon his face forced itself 
 upon her. It was love now, keen and strong love en- 
 hanced by difficulty and worry. She could not help 
 smiling. 
 
 " Let me be everything to you from now on," he said. 
 " Don't make me worry any more. I'll be true to you. 
 We'll go to New York and get a nice flat. I'll go into 
 business again, and we'll be happy. Won't you be 
 mine?" 
 
 Carrie listened quite solemnly. There was no great 
 passion in her, but the drift of things and this man's 
 proximity created a semblance of affection. She felt 
 rather sorry for him a sorrow born of what had only 
 recently been a great admiration. True love she had 
 never felt for him. She would have known as much 
 if she could have analysed her feelings, but this thing
 
 SISTER CARRIE 317 
 
 which she now felt aroused by his great feeling broke 
 down the barriers between them. 
 
 " You'll stay with me, won't you? " he asked. 
 
 " Yes," she said, nodding her head. 
 
 He gathered her to himself, imprinting kisses upon 
 her lips and cheeks. 
 
 " You must marry me, though," she said. 
 
 " I'll get a license to-day," he answered. 
 
 " How ? " she asked. 
 
 " Under a new name," he answered. " I'll take a new 
 name and live a new life. From now on I'm Murdock." 
 
 " Oh, don't take that name," said Carrie. 
 
 "Why not?" he said. 
 
 " I don't like it." 
 
 " Well, what shall I take? " he asked. 
 
 " Oh, anything, only don't take that." 
 
 He thought a while, still keeping his arms about her, 
 and then said: 
 
 " How would Wheeler do? " 
 
 "That's all right," said Carrie. 
 
 " Well, then, Wheeler," he said. " I'll get the li- 
 cense this afternoon." 
 
 They were married by a Baptist minister, the first divine 
 they found convenient. 
 
 At last the Chicago firm answered. It was by Mr. 
 Moy's dictation. He was astonished that Hurstwood 
 had done this ; very sorry that it had come about as it 
 had. If the money were returned, they would not 
 trouble to prosecute him, as they really bore him no 
 ill-will. As for his returning, or their restoring him to 
 his former position, they had not quite decided what 
 the effect of it would be. They would think it over 
 and correspond with him later, possibly, after a little 
 time, and so on. 
 
 The sum and substance of it was that there was no
 
 3iS SISTER CARRIE 
 
 hope, and they wanted the money with the least trouble 
 possible. Hurstwood read his doom. He decided to 
 pay $9,500 to the agent whom they said they would 
 send, keeping $1,300 for his own use. He telegraphed 
 his acquiescence, explained to the representative who 
 called at the hotel the same day, took a certificate of 
 payment, and told Carrie to pack her trunk. He was 
 slightly depressed over this newest move at the time 
 he began to make it, but eventually restored himself. 
 He feared that even yet he might be seized and taken 
 back, so he tried to conceal his movements, but it was 
 scarcely possible. He ordered Carrie's trunk sent to 
 the depot, where he had it sent by express to New 
 York. No one seemed to be observing him, but he left 
 at night. He was greatly agitated lest at the first sta- 
 tion across the border or at the depot in New York thert, 
 should be waiting for him an officer of the law. 
 
 Carrie, ignorant of his theft and his fears, enjoyed the 
 entry into the latter city in the morning. The round 
 green hills sentinelling the broad, expansive bosom of 
 the Hudson held her attention by their beauty as the 
 train followed the line of the stream. She had heard 
 of the Hudson River, the great city of New York, and 
 now she looked out, filling her mind with the wonder 
 of it. 
 
 As the train turned east at Spuyten Duyvil and fol- 
 lowed the east bank of the Harlem River, Hurstwood 
 nervously called her attention to the fact that they were 
 on the edge of the city. After her experience with 
 Chicago, she expected long lines of cars a great high- 
 way of tracks and noted the difference. The sight 
 of a few boats in the Harlem and more in the East River 
 tickled her young heart. It was the first sign of the 
 great sea. Next came a plain street with five-story 
 brick flats, and then the train plunged into the tunnel.
 
 SISTER CARRIE 319 
 
 " Grand Central Station ! " called the trainman, as, 
 after a few minutes of darkness and smoke, daylight 
 reappeared. Hurstwood arose and gathered up his 
 small grip. He was screwed up to the highest tension. 
 With Carrie he waited at the door and then dismounted. 
 No one approached him, but he glanced furtively to and 
 fro as he made for the street entrance. So excited was 
 he that he forgot all about Carrie, who fell behind, won- 
 dering at his self-absorption. As he passed through 
 the depot proper the strain reached its climax and be- 
 gan to wane. All at once he was on the sidewalk, and 
 none but cabmen hailed him. He heaved a great breath 
 and turned, remembering Carrie. 
 
 " I thought you were going to run off and leave me," 
 she said. 
 
 " I was trying to remember which car takes us to the 
 Gilsey," he answered. 
 
 Carrie hardly heard him, so interested was she in the 
 busy scene. 
 
 " How large is New York ? " she asked. 
 
 " Oh, a million or more," said Hurstwood. 
 
 He looked around and hailed a cab, but he did so in 
 a changed way. 
 
 For the first time in years the thought that he must 
 count these little expenses flashed through his mind. 
 It was a disagreeable thing. 
 
 He decided he would lose no time living in hotels 
 but would rent a flat. Accordingly he told Carrie, and 
 she agreed. 
 
 " We'll look to-day, if you want to," she said. 
 
 Suddenly he thought of his experience in Montreal. 
 At the more important hotels he would be certain to 
 meet Chicagoans whom he knew. He stood up and 
 spoke to the driver. 
 
 " Take me to the Belford," he said, knowing it to be
 
 320 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 less frequented by those whom he knew. Then he sat 
 down. 
 
 "Where is the residence part?" asked Carrie, who 
 did not take the tall five-story walls on either hand to 
 be the abodes of families. 
 
 " Everywhere," said Hurstwood, who knew the city 
 fairly well. " There are no lawns in New York. All 
 these are houses." 
 
 " Well, then, I don't like it," said Carrie, who was 
 coming to have a few opinions of her own.
 
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 
 THE KINGDOM OF GREATNESS: THE PILGRIM ADREAM 
 
 Whatever a man like Hurstwood could be in Chicago, 
 it is very evident that he would be but an inconspicuous 
 drop in an ocean like New York. In Chicago, whose 
 population still ranged about 500,000, millionaires were 
 not numerous. The rich had not become so conspicu- 
 ously rich as to drown all moderate incomes in obscu- 
 rity. The attention of the inhabitants was not so dis- 
 tracted by local celebrities in the dramatic, artistic, 
 social, and religious fields as to shut the well-posi- 
 tioned man from view. In Chicago the two roads to 
 distinction were politics and trade. In New York the 
 roads were any one of a half-hundred, and each had 
 been diligently pursued by hundreds, so that celebrities 
 were numerous. The sea was already full of whales. 
 A common fish must needs disappear wholly from view 
 remain unseen. In other words, Hurstwood was 
 nothing. 
 
 TKere is a more subtle result of such a situation as 
 this, which, though not always taken into account, pro- 
 duces the tragedies of the world. The great create an 
 atmosphere which reacts badly upon the small. This 
 atmosphere is easily and quickly felt. Walk among 
 the magnificent residences, the splendid equipages, the 
 gilded shops, restaurants, resorts of all kinds ; scent 
 the flowers, the silks, the wines ; drink of the laughter 
 springing from the soul of luxurious content, of th?
 
 322 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 glances which gleam like light from defiant spears ; feel 
 the quality of the smiles which cut like glistening 
 swords and of strides born of place, and you shall know 
 of what is the atmosphere of the high and mighty. 
 Little use to argue that of such is not the kingdom of 
 greatness, but so long as the world is attracted by this 
 and the human heart views this as the one desirable 
 realm which it must attain, so long, to that heart, will 
 this remain the realm of greatness. So long, also, will 
 the atmosphere of this realm work its desperate results 
 in the soul of man. It is like a chemical reagent. One 
 day of it, like one drop of the other, will so affect and 
 discolour the views, the aims, the desire of the mind, 
 that it will thereafter remain forever dyed. A day of 
 it to the untried mind is like opium to the untried body. 
 A craving is set up which, if gratified, shall eternally 
 result in dreams and death. Aye ! dreams unfulfilled 
 gnawing, luring, idle phantoms which beckon and lead, 
 beckon and lead, until death and dissolution dissolve 
 their power and restore us blind to nature's heart. 
 
 A man of Hurstwood's age and temperament is not 
 subject to the illusions and burning desires of youth, 
 but neither has he the strength of hope which gushes 
 as a fountain in the heart of youth. Such an atmos- 
 phere could not incite in him the cravings of a boy of 
 eighteen, but in so far as they were excited, the lack of 
 hope made them proportionately bitter. He could not 
 fail to notice the signs of affluence and luxury on every 
 hand. He had been to New York before and knew the 
 resources of its folly. In part it was an awesome place 
 to him, for here gathered all that he most respected on 
 this earth wealth, place, and fame. The majority of the 
 celebrities with whom he had tipped glasses in his day 
 as manager hailed from this self-centred and populous 
 spot. The most inviting stories of pleasure and luxury
 
 SISTER CARRIE 323 
 
 had been told of places and individuals here. He knew 
 it to be true that unconsciously he was brushing elbows 
 with fortune the livelong day; that a hundred or five 
 hundred thousand gave no one the privilege of living 
 more than comfortably in so wealthy a place. Fashion 
 and pomp required more ample sums, so that the poor 
 man was nowhere. All this he realised, now quite 
 sharply, as he faced the city, cut off from his friends, 
 despoiled of his modest fortune, and even his name, and 
 forced to begin the battle for place and comfort all over 
 again. He was not old, but he was not so dull but that 
 he could feel he soon would be. Of a sudden, then, this 
 show of fine clothes, place, and power took on peculiar 
 significance. It was emphasised by contrast with his 
 own distressing state. 
 
 And it was distressing? iie soon found that freedom 
 from fear of arrest was not the sine qua non of his exist- 
 ence. That danger dissolved, the next necessity be- 
 came the grievous thing. The paltry sum of thirteen 
 hundred and some odd dollars set against the need of 
 rent, clothing, food, and pleasure for years to come was 
 a spectacle little calculated to induce peace of mind in 
 one who had been accustomed to spend five times that 
 sum in the coarse of a year. He thought upon the sub- 
 ject rather actively the first few days he was in New 
 York, and decided that he must act quickly. As a con- 
 sequence, he consulted the business opportunities ad- 
 vertised in_the morning papers and began investiga- 
 tions on his own account. 
 
 That was not before he had become settled, how- 
 ever. Carrie and he went looking for a flat, as ar- 
 ranged, and found one in Seventy-eighth Street near 
 Amsterdam Avenue. It was a five-story building, 
 and their flat was on the third floor. Owing to the 
 fact that the street was not yet built up solidly, it
 
 3 2 4 
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 was possible to see east to the green tops of the trees 
 in Central Park and west to the broad waters of the 
 Hudson, a glimpse of which was to be had out of the 
 west windows. For the privilege of six rooms and 
 a bath, running in a straight line, they were compelled 
 to pay thirtyjjive dollars.^ month an average, and yet 
 exorbitant, rent for a home at the time. Carrie noticed 
 the difference between the size of the rooms here and 
 in Chicago and mentioned it. 
 
 " You'll not find anything better, dear," said Hurst- 
 wood, " unless you go into one of the old-fashioned 
 houses, and then you won't have any of these con- 
 veniences." 
 
 Carrie picked out the new abode because of its new- 
 ness and bright wood-work. It was one of the very 
 new ones supplied with steam heat, which was a 
 great advantage. The stationary range, hot and cold 
 wa.ter, dumb-waiter, speaking tubes, and call-bell for 
 the janitor pleased her very much. She had enough 
 of the instincts of a housewife to take great satisfaction 
 in these things. 
 
 Hurstwood made arrangement with one of the instal- 
 ment houses whereby they furnished the flat complete 
 and accepted fifty dollars down and ten dollars a month. 
 He then had a little plate, bearing the name G. W. 
 Wheeler, made, which he placed on his letter-box in 
 the hall. It sounded exceedingly odd to Carrie to be 
 called Mrs. Wheeler by the janitor, but in time she 
 became used to it and looked upon the name as her 
 own. 
 
 These house details settled, Hurstwood visited some 
 of the advertised opportunities to purchase an interest 
 in some flourishing down-town bar. After the palatial 
 resort in Adams Street, he could not stomach the com- 
 monplace saloons which he found advertised. He lost
 
 SISTER CARRIE 325 
 
 a number of days looking up these and finding them j 
 disagreeable. He did, however, gain consideraoie 
 knowledge by talking, for he discovered the influence 
 of Tammany Hall and the value of standing in with 
 the police. The most profitable and flourishing places 
 he found to be those which conducted anything but a 
 legitimate business, such as that controlled by Fitz- 
 gerald and Moy. Elegant back rooms and private 
 drinking booths on the second floor were usually ad- 
 juncts of very profitable places. He saw by portly 
 keepers, whose shirt fronts shone with large diamonds, 
 and whose clothes were properly cut, that the liquor 
 business here, as elsewhere, yielded the same golden 
 profit. 
 
 Atjast he found an .individual who had a resort in 
 Warren Street, which seemed an excellent venture. It 
 was fairly well-appearing and susceptible of improve- 
 ment. The owner claimed the business to be excellent, 
 and it certainly looked so. 
 
 " We dealjvvith a very good class of people," he told 
 Hurstwood. " Merchants, salesmen, and professionals. 
 It's a well-dressed class. No bums. We don't allow 
 'em in the place." 
 
 Hurstwood listened to the cash-register ring, and 
 watched the trade for a while. 
 
 " It's profitable enough for two, is it? " he asked. 
 
 " You can see for yourself if you're any judge of the 
 liquor trade," said the owner. " This is only one of the 
 two places I have. The other is down in Nassau Street. 
 I can't tend to them both alone. If I had some one who 
 knew the business thoroughly I wouldn't mind sharing 
 with him in this one and letting him manage it." 
 
 " I've had experience enough," said Hurstwood 
 blandly, but he felt a little diffident about referring to 
 Fitzgerald and Moy.
 
 326 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 " Well, you can suit yourself, Mr. Wheeler," said the 
 proprietor. 
 
 He only offered a third interest in the stock, fixtures, 
 and good-will, and this in return for a thousand dollars 
 and managerial ability on the part of the one who 
 should come in. There was no property involved, be 
 cause the owner of the saloon merely rented from an 
 estate. 
 
 The offer was genuine enough, but it was a question 
 with Hurstwood whether a third interest in that local- 
 ity could be made to yield one hundred and fifty dol- 
 lars a month, which he figured he must have in order 
 to meet the ordinary family expenses and be com- 
 fortable. It was not the time, however, after many 
 failures to find what he wanted, to hesitate. It looked 
 as though a third would pay a hundred a month now. 
 By judicious management and improvement, it might 
 be made to pay more. Accordingly he agreed to enter 
 into partnership, and made over his thousand dollars, 
 preparing to enter the next day. 
 
 JHis first inclination was to be elated, and he con- 
 ded to Carrie that he thought he had made an excel- 
 :nt arrangement. Time, however, introduced food for 
 eflection. He found his partner to be very disagree- 
 ble. Frequently he was the worse for liquor, which 
 lade him surly. This was the last thing which Hurst- 
 food was used to in business. Besides, the business 
 aried. It was nothing like the class of patronage 
 /hich he had enjoyed in Chicago. He found that Jt 
 fould take a long time to make friends. These people 
 urried in and out without seeking the pleasures of 
 riendship. It was no gathering or lounging place. 
 Vhole days and weeks passed without one such hearty 
 reeting as he had been wont to enjoy every day in 
 Chicago. 

 
 SISTER CARRIE 327 
 
 For another thing, Hurstwood missed the celebrities 
 4hose well-dressed, elite individuals who lend grace 
 to the average bars and bring news from far-off and 
 exclusive circles. He did not see one such in a month. 
 Evenings, when still at his post, he would occasionally 
 read in the evening papers incidents concerning celeb- 
 rities whom he knew whom he had drunk a glass 
 with many a time. They would visit a bar like Fitz- 
 gerald and Moy's in Chicago, or the Hoffman House, 
 uptown, but he knew that he would never see them 
 down here. 
 
 Again, the business ,did not pay as, well as he 
 thought- It increased a little, but he found he would 
 have to watch his household expenses, which was 
 humiliating. 
 
 In the very beginning it was a delight to go home 
 late at night, as he did, and find Carrie. He managed 
 to run up and take dinner with her between six and 
 seven, and to remain home until nine o'clock in the 
 morning, but the novelty of this waned after a time, 
 and he began to feel the drag of his duties. 
 
 The first month had scarcely passed before Carrie 
 said in a very natural way : " I think I'll go down this 
 week and buy a dress." 
 
 "What kind?" said Hurstwood. 
 
 " Oh, something for street wear." 
 
 " All right," he answered, smiling, although he noted 
 mentally that it would be more agreeable to his finances 
 if she didn't. Nothing was said about it the next day, 
 but the following morning he asked : 
 
 " Have you done anything about your dress? " 
 
 " Not yet," said Carrie. 
 
 He paused a few moments, as if in thought, and 
 then said : 
 
 " Would you mind putting it off a few days? "
 
 328 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 " No," replied Carrie, who did not catch the drift of 
 his remarks. She had never thought of him in connec- 
 tion with money troubles before. '' Why ? " 
 
 " Well, I'll tell you," said Hurstwood. " This invest- 
 ment of mine is taking a lot of money just now. I ex- 
 pect to get it all back shortly, but just at present I am 
 running close." 
 
 " Oh ! " answered Carrie. " Why, certainly, dear. 
 Why didn't you tell me before? " 
 
 " It wasn't necessary," said Hurstwood. 
 
 For all her acquiescence, there was something about 
 the way Hurstwood spoke which reminded Carrie of 
 Drouet and his little deal which he was always about 
 to put through. It was only the thought of a second, 
 but it was a beginning. It was something new in her 
 thinking of Hurstwood. 
 
 Other things followed from time to time, little things 
 of the same sort, which in their cumulative effect were 
 eventually equal to a full revelation. Carrie was not 
 dull by any means. Two persons cannot long dwell 
 together without coming to an understanding of one 
 another. The mental difficulties of an individual re- 
 veal themselves whether he voluntarily confesses them 
 or not. Trouble gets in the air and contributes gloom, 
 which speaks for itself. Hurstwood dressed as nicely 
 as usual, but they were the same clothes he had in Can- 
 ada. Carrie noticed that he did not install a large ward- 
 robe, though his own was anything but large. She no- 
 ticed, also, that he did not suggest many amusements, 
 said nothing about the food, seemed concerned about 
 his business. This was not the easy Hurstwood of 
 Chicago not the liberal, opulent Hurstwood she had 
 known. The change was too obvious to escape 
 detection. 
 
 In time she began to feel that a change had come 

 
 SISTER CARRIE 329 
 
 about, and that she was not in his confidence. He was 
 evidently secretive and kept his own counsel. She 
 found herself asking him questions about little things, 
 This is a disagreeable state to a woman. Great love 
 makes it seem reasonable, sometimes plausible, but 
 never satisfactory. Where great love is not, a more 
 definite and less satisfactory conclusion is reached. 
 
 As for Hurstwood, he was making a great fight 
 against the difficulties of a changed condition. He was 
 too shrewd not to realise the tremendous mistake he had 
 made, and appreciate that he had done well in getting 
 where he was, and yet he could not help contrasting his 
 present state with his former, hour after hour, and day, 
 after day. 
 
 Besides, he had the disagreeable fear of meeting old- 
 time friends, ever since one such encounter which he 
 made shortly after his arrival in the city. It was ifl 
 Broadway that he saw a man approaching him whom 
 he knew. There was no time for simulating non-recog 
 nition. The exchange of glances had been too sharp, the 
 knowledge of each other too apparent. So the friend, 
 a buyer for one of the Chicago wholesale houses, felt, 
 perforce, the necessity of stopping. 
 
 "How are you?" he said, extending his hand with 
 an evident mixture of feeling and a lack of plausible 
 interest. 
 
 " Very well," said Hurstwood, equally embarrassed, 
 " How is it with you? " 
 
 " All right ; I'm down here doing a little buying. Are 
 you located here now? " 
 
 " Yes," said Hurstwood, " I have a place down in 
 Warren Street." 
 
 " Is that so? " said the friend. " Glad to hear it. I'll 
 come down and see you." 
 
 " Do," said Hurstwood.
 
 ^ )0 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 " So long," said the other, smiling affably and going 
 on. 
 
 " He never asked for my number," thought Hurst- 
 wood ; '* he wouldn't think of coming." He wiped his 
 forehead, which had grown damp, and hoped sincerely 
 he would meet no one else. 
 
 These things told upon his good-nature, such as it 
 was. His one hope was that things would change for 
 the better in a money way. He had Carrie. His fur- 
 niture was being paid for. He was maintaining his 
 position. As for Carrie, the amusements he could give 
 her would have to do for the present. He could prob- 
 ably keep up his pretensions sufficiently long without 
 exposure to make good, and then all would be well. 
 He failed therein to take account of the frailties of 
 human nature the difficulties of matrimonial life. 
 Carrie was young. With him and with her varying 
 mental states were common. At any moment the ex- 
 tremes of feeling might be anti-polarised at the dinner 
 table. This often happens in the best regulated fami- 
 lies. Little things brought out on such occasions need 
 great love to obliterate them afterward. Where that 
 is not, both parties count two and two and make a prob- 
 lem after a while.
 
 CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 A PET OF GOOD FORTUNE: BROADWAY FLAUNTS IT5 
 JOYS 
 
 The effect of the city and his own situation on Hurst- 
 wood was paralleled in the case of Carrie, who accepted 
 the things which fortune provided with the most genial 
 good-nature. New York, despite her first expression 
 of disapproval; -soon interested her exceedingly. Its 
 clear atmosphere, more populous thoroughfares, and 
 peculiar indifference struck her forcibly. She had 
 never seen such a little flat as hers, and yet it soon en- 
 listed her affection. The new furniture made an ex- 
 cellent showing, the sideboard which Hurstwood him- 
 self arranged gleamed brightly. The furniture for 
 each room was appropriate, and in the so-called parlour, 
 or front room, was installed a piano, because Carrie 
 said she would like to learn to play. She kept a servant 
 and developed rapidly in household tactics and infor< 
 mation. For the first time in her life she felt settled, 
 and somewhat justified in the eyes of society as she 
 conceived of it. Her thoughts were merry and inno- 
 cent enough. For a long while she concerned herself 
 over the arrangement of New York flats, and wondered 
 at ten families living in one building and all remaining 
 strange and indifferent to each other. She also mar- 
 velled at the whistles of the hundreds of vessels in the 
 harbour the long, low cries of the Sound steamers and 
 ferry-boats when fog was on. The mere fact that these 
 things spoke from the sea made them wonderful. She
 
 332 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 looked much at what she could see of the Hudson from 
 her west windows and of the great city building up 
 rapidly on either hand. It was much to ponder over, 
 and sufficed to entertain her for more than a year with- 
 out becoming stale. 
 
 For another thing, Hurstwood was exceedingly in- 
 teresting in his affection for her. Troubled as he was, 
 he never exposed his difficulties to her. He carried 
 himself with the same self-important air, took his new 
 state with easy familiarity, and rejoiced in Carrie's 
 proclivities and successes. Each evening he arrived 
 promptly to dinner, and found the little dining-room a 
 most inviting spectacle. In a way, the smallness of 
 the room added to its luxury. It looked full and re- 
 plete. The white-covered table was arrayed with pretty 
 dishes and lighted with a four-armed candelabra, each 
 light of which was topped with a red shade. Between 
 Carrie and the girl the steaks and chops came out all 
 right, and canned goods did the rest for a while. Car- 
 rie studied the art of making biscuit, and soon reached 
 the stage where she could show a plate of light, pala- 
 table morsels for her labour. 
 
 In this manner the second, third, and fourth months 
 passed. Winter came, and with it a feeling that in- 
 doors was best, so that the attending of theatres was 
 not much talked of. Hurstwood made great efforts to 
 meet all expenditures without a show of feeling one 
 way or the other. He pretended that he was reinvest- 
 ing his money in strengthening the business for greater 
 ends in the future. He contented himself with a very 
 moderate allowance of personal apparel, and rarely 
 suggested anything for Carrie. Thus the first winter 
 passed. 
 
 In the second year, the business which Hurstwood 
 managed did__increase somewhat. He got out of it
 
 SISTER CARRIE 333 
 
 regularly the $150 per month which he had anticipated. 
 Unfortunately, by this time Carrie had reached certain 
 conclusions, and he had scraped up a few acquaint- 
 ances. 
 
 Being of a passive and receptive rather than an active 
 and aggressive nature, Carrie accepted the situation. 
 Her state seemed satisfactory enough. Once in a while 
 they would go to a theatre together, occasionally in 
 season to the beaches and different points about the 
 city, but they picked up no acquaintances. Hurstwood 
 naturally abandoned his show of fine manners with her 
 and modified his attitude to one of easy familiarity. 
 There were no misunderstandings, no apparent differ- 
 ences of opinion. In fact, without money or visiting 
 friends, he led a life which could neither arouse jealousy 
 nor comment. Carrie rather sympathised with his ef- 
 forts and thought nothing upon her lack of entertain- 
 ment such as she had enjoyed in Chicago. New York 
 as a corporate entity and her flat temporarily seemed 
 sufficient. 
 
 However, as Hurstwood's business increased, he, as 
 stated, began to pick up acquaintances. He also began 
 to allow himself more clothes. He convinced himself 
 that his home life was very precious to him, but allowed 
 that he could occasionally stay away from dinner. 
 The first time he did this he sent a message saying that 
 he would be detained. Carrie ate alone, and wished 
 that it might not happen again. The second time, also, 
 he sent word, but at the last moment. The third time 
 he forgot entirely and explained afterwards. These 
 events were months apart, each. 
 
 " Where were you, George? " asked Carrie, after the 
 first absence. 
 
 " Tied up at the office," he said genially. " There 
 were some accounts I had to straighten."
 
 334 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 " I'm sorry you couldn't get home," she said kindly. 
 " I was fixing to have such a nice dinner." 
 
 The second time he gave a similar excuse, but the 
 third time the feeling about it in Carrie's mind was a 
 little bit out of the ordinary. 
 
 " I couldn't get home," he said, when he came in later 
 in the evening, " I was so busy." 
 
 " Couldn't you have sent me word? " asked Carrie. 
 
 " I meant to," he said, " but you know I forgot it 
 until it was too late to do any good." 
 
 " And I had such a good dinner ! " said Carrie. 
 
 Now, it so happened that from his observations of 
 Carrie he began to imagine that she was of the thor- 
 oughly domestic type of mind. He really thought, 
 after a year, that her chief expression in life was finding 
 its natural channel in household duties. Notwith- 
 standing the fact that he had observed her act in Chi- 
 cago, and that during the past year he had only seeiv 
 her limited in her relations to her flat and him by con- 
 ditions which he made, and that she had not gained any 
 friends or associates, he drew this peculiar conclusion. 
 With it came a feeling of satisfaction in having a wife 
 who could thus be content, and this satisfaction worked 
 its natural result. That is, since he imagined he saw 
 her satisfied, he felt called upon to give only that which 
 contributed to such satisfaction. He supplied the fur- 
 niture, the decorations, the food, and the necessary 
 clothing. Thoughts of entertaining her, leading her 
 out into the shine and show of life, grew less and less. 
 He felt attracted to the outer world, but did not think 
 she would care to go along. Once he went to the 
 theatre alone. Another time he joined a couple of his 
 new friends at an evening game of poker. Since his 
 money-feathers were beginning to grow again he felt 
 like sprucing about. All this, however, in a much less
 
 SISTER CARRIE 335 
 
 imposing way than had been his wont in Chicago. He 
 avoided the gay places where he would be apt to meet 
 those who had known him. 
 
 Now, Carrie began to feel this in various sensory 
 ways. She was not the kind to be seriously disturbed 
 by his actions. Not loving him greatly, she could not 
 be jealous in a disturbing way. In fact, she was not 
 jealous at all. Hurstwood was pleased with her placid 
 manner, when he should have duly considered it. When 
 he did not come home it did not seem anything like a 
 terrible thing to her. She gave him credit for having 
 the usual allurements of men people to talk to, places 
 to stop, friends to consult with. She was perfectly 
 willing that he should enjoy himself in his way, but she 
 did not care to be neglected herself. Her state still 
 seemed fairly reasonable, however. All she did ob- 
 serve was that Hurstwood was somewhat different. 
 
 Some time in the second year of their residence in 
 Seventy-eighth Street the flat across the hall from Car- 
 rie became vacant, and into it moved a very handsome 
 young woman and her husband, with both of whom 
 Carrie afterwards became acquainted. This was 
 brought about solely by the arrangement of the flats, 
 which were united in one place, as it were, by the dumb- 
 waiter. This useful elevator, by which fuel, groceries, 
 and the like were sent up from the basement, and gar- 
 bage and waste sent down, was used by both residents 
 of one floor ; that is, a small door opened into it from 
 each flat. 
 
 If the occupants of both flats answered to the whistle 
 of the janitor at the same time, they would stand face 
 to face when they opened the dumb-waiter doors. One 
 morning, when Carrie went to remove her paper, the 
 newcomer, a handsome brunette of perhaps twenty- 
 three years of age, was there for a like purpose. She
 
 53 6 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 was in a night-robe and dressing-gown, with her hair 
 very much tousled, but she looked so pretty and good- 
 natured that Carrie instantly conceived a liking for her. 
 The newcomer did no more than smile shamefacedly, 
 but it was sufficient. Carrie felt that she would like to 
 know her, and a similar feeling stirred in the mind of 
 the other, who admired Carrie's innocent face. 
 
 " That's a real pretty woman who has moved in next 
 door," said Carrie to Hurstwood at the breakfast table. 
 
 " Who are they ? " asked Hurstwood. 
 
 " I don't know/' said Carrie. " The name on the 
 bell is Vance. Some one over there plays beautifully. 
 I guess it must be she." 
 
 " Well, you never can tell what sort of people you're 
 living next to in this town, can you ? " said Hurstwood, 
 expressing the customary New York opinion about 
 neighbours. 
 
 " Just think," said Carrie, " I have been in this house 
 with nine other families for over a year and I don't 
 know a soul. These people have been here over a 
 month and I haven't seen any one before this morning." 
 
 " It's just as well," said Hurstwood. " You never 
 know who you're going to get in with. Some of these 
 people are pretty bad company." 
 
 " I expect so," said Carrie, agreeably. 
 
 The conversation turned to other things, and Carrie 
 thought no more upon the subject until a day or two 
 later, when, going out to market, she encountered Mrs. 
 Vance coming in. The latter recognised her and 
 nodded, for which Carrie returned a smile. This set- 
 tled the probability of acquaintanceship. If there had 
 been no faint recognition on this occasion, there would 
 have been no future association. 
 
 Carrie saw no more of Mrs. Vance for several weeks, 
 but she heard her play through the thin walls which
 
 SISTER CARRIE 337 
 
 divided the front rooms of the flats, and was pleased 
 by the merry selection of pieces and the brilliance ot 
 their rendition. She could play only moderately her- 
 self, and such variety as Mrs. Vance exercised bor- 
 dered, for Carrie, upon the verge of great art. Every- 
 thing she had seen and heard thus far the merest 
 scraps and shadows indicated that these people were, 
 in a measure, refined and in comfortable circumstances. 
 So Carrie was ready for any extension of the friendship 
 which might follow. 
 
 One day Carrie's bell rang and the servant, who was 
 in the kitchen, pressed the button which caused the 
 front door of the general entrance on the ground floor 
 to be electrically unlatched. When Carrie waited at 
 her own door on the third floor to see who it might be 
 coming up to call on her, Mrs. Vance appeared. 
 
 " I hope you'll excuse me," she said. " I went out a 
 while ago and forgot my outside key, so I thought I'd 
 ring your bell." 
 
 This was a common trick of other residents of the 
 building, whenever they had forgotten their outside 
 keys. They did not apologise for it, however. 
 
 " Certainly," said Carrie. " I'm glad you did. I do 
 the same thing sometimes." 
 
 " Isn't it just delightful weather? " said Mrs. Vance, 
 pausing for a moment. 
 
 Thus, after a few more preliminaries, this visiting 
 acquaintance was well launched, and in the young Mrs. 
 Vance Carrie found an agreeable companion. 
 
 On several occasions Carrie visited her and was 
 visited. Both flats were good to look upon, though 
 that of the Vances tended somewhat more to the luxu- 
 rious. 
 
 " I want you to come over this evening and meet my 
 husband," said Mrs. Vance, not long after their in-
 
 338 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 timacy began. " He wants to meet you. You play 
 cards, don't you ? " 
 
 " A little," said Carrie. 
 
 " Well, we'll have a game of cards. If your husband 
 comes home bring him over." 
 
 " He's not coming to dinner to-night," said Carrie. 
 
 " Well, when he does come we'll call him in." 
 
 Carrie acquiesced, and that evening met the portly 
 Vance, an individual a few years younger than Hurst- 
 wood, and who owed his seemingly comfortable matri- 
 monial state much more to 'his money than to his good 
 looks. He thought well of Carrie upon the first glance 
 and laid himself out to be genial, teaching her a new game 
 of cards and talking to her about New York and its pleas- 
 ures. Mrs. Vance played some upon the piano, and at 
 last Hurstwood came. 
 
 " I am very glad to meet you," he said to Mrs. Vance 
 when Carrie introduced him, showing much of the old 
 grace which had captivated Carrie. 
 
 " Did you think your wife had run away? " said Mr. 
 Vance, extending his hand upon introduction. 
 
 " I didn't know but what she might have found a bet- 
 ter husband," said Hurstwood. 
 
 He now turned his attention to Mrs. Vance, and in 
 a flash Carrie saw again what she for some time had 
 sub-consciously missed in Hurstwood the adroitness 
 and flattery of which he was capable. She also saw 
 that she was not well dressed not nearly as well 
 dressed as Mrs. Vance. These were not vague ideas 
 any longer. Her situation was cleared up for her. She 
 felt that her life was becoming stale, and therein she 
 felt cause for gloom. The old helpful, urging melan- 
 choly was restored. The desirous Carrie was whis- 
 pered to concerning her possibilities. 
 
 There were no immediate results to this awakening,
 
 SISTER CARRIE 339 
 
 for Carrie had little power of initiative ; but, neverthe- 
 less, she seemed ever capable of getting herself into the 
 tide of change where she would be easily borne along. 
 Hurstwood noticed nothing. He had been unconscious 
 of the marked contrasts which Carrie had observed. 
 He did not even detect the shade of melancholy which 
 settled in her eyes. Worst of all, she now began to 
 feel the loneliness of the flat and seek the company of 
 Mrs. Vance, who liked her exceedingly. 
 
 " Let's go to the matinee this afternoon," said Mrs. 
 Vance, who had stepped across into Carrie's flat one 
 morning, still arrayed in a soft pink dressing-gown, 
 which she had donned upon rising. Hurstwood and 
 Vance had gone their separate ways nearly an hour 
 before. 
 
 " All right," said Carrie, noticing the air of the petted 
 and well-groomed woman in Mrs. Vance's general ap- 
 pearance. She looked as though she was dearly loved 
 and her every wish gratified. " What shall we see?" 
 
 " Oh, I do want to see Nat Goodwin," said Mrs. 
 Vance. " I do think he is the jolliest actor. The 
 papers say this is such a good play." 
 
 " What time will we have to start? " asked Carrie. 
 
 "Let's go at -one and walk down Broadway from 
 Thirty-fourth Street," said Mrs. Vance. " It's such 
 an interesting walk. He's at the Madison Square." 
 
 " I'll be glad to go," said Carrie. " How much will 
 we have to pay for seats ? " 
 
 " Not more than a dollar," said Mrs. Vance. 
 
 The latter departed, and at one o'clock reappeared, 
 stunningly arrayed in a dark-blue walking dress, with 
 a nobby hat to match. Carrie had gotten herself up 
 charmingly enough, but this woman pained her by con- 
 trast. She seemed to have so many dainty little things 
 which Carrie had not. There were trinkets of gold, an
 
 340 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 elegant green leather purse set with her initials, a fancy 
 handkerchief, exceedingly rich in design, and the like. 
 Carrie felt that she needed more and better clothes to 
 compare with this woman, and that any one looking 
 at the two would pick Mrs. Vance for her raiment 
 alone. It was a trying, though rather unjust thought, 
 for Carrie had now developed an equally pleasing 
 figure, and had grown in comeliness until she was a 
 thoroughly attractive type of her colour of beauty. 
 There was some difference in the clothing of the two, 
 both of quality and age, but this difference was not 
 especially noticeable. It served, however, to augment 
 Carrie's dissatisfaction with her state. 
 
 The walk down Broadway, then as now, was one of 
 the remarkable features of the city. There gathered, 
 before the matinee and afterwards, not only all the 
 pretty women who love a showy parade, but the men 
 who love to gaze upon and admire them. It was a very 
 imposing procession of pretty faces and fine clothes. 
 Women appeared in their very best hats, shoes, and 
 gloves, and walked arm in arm on their way to the fine 
 shops or theatres strung along from Fourteenth to 
 Thirty-fourth streets. Equally the men paraded with 
 the very latest they could afford. A tailor might have 
 secured hints on suit measurements, a shoemaker on 
 proper lasts and colours, a hatter on hats. It was liter- 
 ally true that if a lover of fine clothes secured a new 
 suit, it was sure to have its first airing on Broadway. 
 So true and well understood was this fact, that several 
 years later a popular song, detailing this and other 
 facts concerning the afternoon parade on matinee days, 
 and entitled "What Right Has He on Broadway? " was 
 published, and had quite a vogue about the music-halls 
 of the city. 
 
 In all her stay in the city, Carrie had never heard of
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 341 
 
 this showy parade ; had never even been on Broad- 
 way when it was taking place. On the other hand, it 
 was a familiar thing to Mrs. Vance, who not only knew 
 of it as an entity, but had often been in it, going pur- 
 posely to see and be seen, to create a stir with her 
 beauty and dispel any tendency to fall short in dressi- 
 ness by contrasting herself with the beauty and fashion 
 of the town. 
 
 Carrie stepped along easily enough after they got out 
 of the car at Thirty-fourth Street, but soon fixed her 
 eyes upon the lovely company which swarmed by and 
 with them as they proceeded. She noticed suddenly 
 that Mrs. Vance's manner had rather stiffened under 
 the gaze of handsome men and elegantly dressed ladies, 
 whose glances were not modified by any rules of pro- 
 priety. To stare seemed the proper and natural thing. 
 Carrie found herself stared at and ogled. Men in flaw- 
 less top-coats, high hats, and silver-headed walking 
 sticks elbowed near and looked too often into conscious 
 eyes. Ladies rustled by in dresses of stiff cloth, shed- 
 ding affected smiles and perfume. Carrie noticed 
 among them the sprinkling of goodness and the heavy 
 percentage of vice. The rouged and powdered cheeks 
 and lips, the scented hair, the large, misty, and lan- 
 guorous eye, were common enough. With a start she 
 awoke to find that she was in fashion's crowd, on 
 parade in a show place and such a show place ! Jew- 
 ellers' windows gleamed along the path with remark- 
 able frequency. Florist shops, furriers, haberdashers, 
 confectioners all followed in rapid succession. The 
 street was full of coaches. Pompous doormen in im- 
 mense coats, shiny brass belts and buttons, waited in 
 front of expensive salesrooms. Coachmen in tan boots, 
 white tights, and blue jackets waited obsequiously for 
 the mistresses of carriages who were shopping inside.
 
 342 
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 The whole street bore the flavour of riches and show, 
 and Carrie felt that she was not of it. She could not, 
 for the life of her, assume the attitude and smartness 
 of Mrs. Vance, who, in her beauty, was all assurance. 
 She could only imagine that it must be evident to many 
 that she was the less handsomely dressed of the two. 
 It cut her to the quick, and she resolved that she would 
 not come here again until she looked better. At the 
 same time she longed to feel the delight of parading 
 here as an equal. Ah, then she would be happy !
 
 CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 THE FEAST OF BELSHAZZAR : A SEER TO TRANSLATE 
 
 Such feelings as were generated in Carrie by this 
 walk put her in an exceedingly receptive mood for the 
 pathos which followed in the play. The actor whom 
 they had gone to see had achieved his popularity by 
 presenting a mellow type of comedy, in which sufficient 
 sorrow was introduced to lend contrast and relief to 
 humour. For Carrie, as we well know, the stage had a 
 great attraction. She had never forgotten her one his- 
 trionic achievement in Chicago, It dwelt in her mind 
 and occupied her consciousness during many long 
 afternoons in which her rocking-chair and her latest 
 novel contributed the only pleasures of her state. 
 Never could she witness a play without having her 
 own ability vividly brought to consciousness. Some 
 scenes made her long to be a part of them to give 
 expression to the feelings which she, in the place of 
 the character represented, would feel. Almost invari- 
 ably she would carry the vivid imaginations away with 
 her and brood over them the next day alone. She lived 
 as much in these things as in the realities which made 
 up her daily life. 
 
 It was not often that she came to the play stirred to 
 her heart's core by actualities. To-day a low song of 
 longing had been set singing in her heart by the finery, 
 the merriment, the beauty she had seen. Oh, thes* 1 
 women who had passed her by, hundreds and hundreds 
 strong, who were they? Whence came the rich, ele-
 
 344 
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 gant dresses, the astonishingly coloured buttons, the 
 knick-knacks of silver and gold? Where were these 
 lovely creatures housed? Amid what elegancies of 
 carved furniture, decorated walls, elaborate tapestries 
 did they move? Where were their rich apartments, 
 loaded with all that money could provide? In what 
 stables champed these sleek, nervous horses and rested 
 the gorgeous carriages ? Where lounged the richly 
 groomed footmen? Oh, the mansions, the lights, the 
 perfume, the loaded boudoirs and tables! New York 
 must be filled with such bowers, or the beautiful, inso- 
 lent, supercilious creatures could not be. Some hot- 
 houses held them. It ached her to know that she was 
 not one of them that, alas, she had dreamed a dream 
 and it had not come true. She wondered at her own 
 solitude these two years past her indifference to the 
 fact that she had never achieved what she had expected. 
 The play was one of those drawing-room concoctions 
 in which charmingly overdressed ladies and gentlemen 
 suffer the pangs of love and jealousy amid gilded sur- 
 roundings. Such bon-mots are ever enticing to those 
 who have all their days longed for such material sur- 
 roundings and have never had them gratified. They 
 have the charm of showing suffering under ideal con- 
 ditions. Who would not grieve upon a gilded chair? 
 Who would not suffer amid perfumed tapestries, 
 cushioned furniture, and liveried servants? Grief 
 under such circumstances becomes an enticing thing. 
 Carrie longed to be of it. She wanted to take her suf- 
 ferings, whatever they were, in such a world, or failing 
 that, at least to simulate them under such charming 
 conditions upon the stage. So affected was her mind 
 by what she had seen, that the play now seemed an 
 extraordinarily beautiful thing. She was soon lost in 
 the world it represented, and wished that she might
 
 SISTER CARRIE 345 
 
 never return. Between the acts she studied the galaxy 
 of matinee attendants in front rows and boxes, and 
 conceived a new idea of the possibilities of New York. 
 She was sure she had not seen it all that the city was 
 one whirl of pleasure and delight. 
 
 CzQing- out, the same Broadway taught her a sharper 
 lesson. The scene she had witnessed coming down 
 was now augmented and at its height. Such a crush 
 of finery and folly she had never seen. It clinched her 
 convictions concerning her state. She had not lived, 
 could not lay claim to having lived, until something of 
 this had come into her own life. \Yomen were spend- 
 ing money like water ; she could see that in every ele- 
 gant shop she passed. Flowers, candy, jewelry, seemed 
 the principal things in which the elegant dames were 
 interested. And she she had scarcely enough pin 
 money to indulge in such outings as this a few times 
 a month. 
 
 That night the pretty little flat seemed a common- 
 place thing. It was not what the rest of the world was 
 enjoying. She saw the servant working at dinner with 
 an indifferent eye. In her mind were running scenes 
 of the play. Particularly she remembered one beauti- 
 ful actress the sweetheart who had been wooed and 
 won. The grace of this woman had won Carrie's heart. 
 Her dresses had been all that art could suggest, her 
 sufferings had been so real. The anguish which she 
 had portrayed Carrie could feel. It was done as she 
 was sure she could do it. There were places in which 
 she could even do better. Hence she repeated the lines 
 to herself. Oh, if she could only have such a part, how 
 broad would be her life! She, too, could act appeal- 
 ingly. 
 
 When Hurstwood came, Carrie was moody. She 
 was sitting, rocking and thinking, and did not care to
 
 346 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 have her enticing imaginations broken in upon; so 
 she said little or nothing. 
 
 " What's the matter, Carrie ? " said Hurstwood after 
 a time, noticing her quiet, almost moody state. 
 
 " Nothing," said Carrie. " I don't feel very well to- 
 night." 
 
 " Not sick, are you ? " he asked, approaching very 
 close. 
 
 " Oh, no," she said, almost pettishly, " I just don't 
 feel very good." 
 
 " That's too bad," he said, stepping away and adjust- 
 ing his vest after his slignt bending over. " I was 
 thinking we might go to a show to-night." 
 
 " I don't want to go," said Carrie, annoyed that her 
 fine visions should have thus been broken into and 
 driven out of her mind. " I've been to the matinee this 
 afternoon." 
 
 "Oh, you have?" said Hurstwood. "What was 
 it?" 
 
 " A Gold Mine." 
 
 "How was it?" 
 
 " Pretty good," said Carrie. 
 
 " And you don't want to go again to-night? " 
 
 " I don't think I do," she said. 
 
 Nevertheless, wakened out of her melancholia and 
 called to the dinner table, she changed her mind. A 
 little food in the stomach does wonders. She went 
 again, and in so doing temporarily recovered her equa- 
 nimity. The great awakening blow had, however, been 
 delivered. As often as she might recover from these 
 discontented thoughts now, they would occur again. 
 Time and repetition ah, the wonder of it! The 
 dropping water and the solid stone how utterly it yields 
 at last ! 
 
 Not long after this matinee experience perhaps a
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 347 
 
 month Mrs. Vance invited Carrie to an evening at the 
 theatre with them. She heard Carrie say that Hurst- 
 wood was not coming home to dinner. 
 
 " Why don't you come with us? Don't get dinner 
 for yourself. We're going down to Sherry's for din- 
 ner and then over to the Lyceum. Come along with us." 
 
 " I think I will," answered Carrie. 
 
 She began to dress at three o'clock for her departure 
 at half-past five for the noted dining-room which was 
 then crowding Delmonico's for position in society. In 
 this dressing Carrie showed the influence of her asso- 
 ciation with the dashing Mrs. Vance. She had con- 
 stantly had her attention called by the latter to novel- 
 ties in everything which pertains to a woman's apparel. 
 
 "Are you going to get such and such a hat?" or, 
 " Have you seen the new gloves with the oval pearl 
 buttons ? " were but sample phrases out of a large 
 selection. 
 
 " The next time you get a pair of shoes, dearie," said 
 Mrs. Vance, " get button, with thick soles and patent- 
 leather tips. They're all the rage this fall." 
 
 " I will," said Carrie. 
 
 " Oh, dear, have you seen the new shirtwaists at Alt- 
 man's? They have some of the loveliest patterns. I 
 saw one there that I know would look stunning on you. 
 I said so when I saw it." 
 
 Carrie listened to these things with considerable in- 
 terest, for they were suggested with more of friendli- 
 ness than is usually common between pretty women. 
 Mrs. Vance liked Carrie's stable good-nature so well 
 that she really took pleasure in suggesting to her the 
 latest things. 
 
 " Why don't you get yourself one of those nice serge 
 skirts they're selling at Lord & Taylor's? " she said one 
 day. " Thev're the circular style, and they're going to
 
 348 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 be worn from now on. A dark blue one would look so 
 nice on you." 
 
 Carrie listened with eager ears. These things never 
 came up between her and Hurstwood. Nevertheless, 
 she began to suggest one thing and another, which 
 Hurstwood agreed to without any expression of 
 opinion. He noticed the new tendency on Carrie's 
 part, and finally, hearing much of Mrs. Vance and her 
 delightful ways, suspected whence the change came. 
 He was not inclined to offer the slightest objection so 
 soon, but he felt that Carrie's wants were expanding. 
 This did not appeal to him exactly, but he cared for her 
 in his own way, and so the thing stood. Still, there 
 was something in the details of the transactions which 
 caused Carrie to feel that her requests were not a de- 
 light to him. He did not enthuse over the purchases. 
 This led her to believe that neglect was creeping in, 
 and so another small wedge was entered. 
 
 Nevertheless, one of the results of Mrs. Vance's sug- 
 gestions was the fact that on this occasion Carrie was 
 dressed somewhat to her own satisfaction. She had 
 on her best, but there was comfort in the thought that 
 if she must confine herself to a best, it was neat and fit- 
 ting. She looked the well-groomed woman of twenty- 
 one, and Mrs. Vance praised her, which brought colour 
 to her plump cheeks and a noticeable brightness into 
 her large eyes. It was threatening rain, and Mr. Vance, 
 at his wife's request, had called a coach. 
 
 "Your husband isn't coming?" suggested Mr. Vance, 
 as he met Carrie in his little parlour. 
 
 " No ; he said he wouldn't be home for dinner." 
 
 " Better leave a little note for him, telling him where 
 we are. He might turn up." 
 
 " I will," said Carrie, who had not thought of it 
 before.
 
 SISTER CARRIh 34 
 
 "Tell him we'll be at Sherry's until eight o'clock, 
 He knows, though, I guess." 
 
 Carrie crossed the hall with rustling skirts, and 
 scrawled the note, gloves on. When she returned a 
 newcomer was in the Vance flat. 
 
 " Mrs. Wheeler, let me introduce Mr. Ames, a cousin 
 of mine," said Mrs. Vance. " He's going along with 
 us, aren't you, Bob ? " 
 
 " I'm very glad to meet you," said Ames, bowing 
 politely to Carrie. 
 
 The latter caught in a glance the dimensions of a 
 very stalwart figure. She also noticed that he was 
 smooth-shaven, good looking, and young, but nothing 
 more. 
 
 " Mr. Ames is just down in New York for a few 
 days," put in Vance, " and we're trying to show him 
 around a little." 
 
 "Oh, are you?" said Carrie, taking another glance 
 at the newcomer. 
 
 " Yes ; I am just on here from Indianapolis for a week 
 or so," said young Ames, seating himself on the edge 
 of a chair to wait while Mrs. Vance completed the last 
 touches of her toilet. 
 
 " I guess you find New York quite a thing to see, 
 don't you ? " said Carrie, venturing something to avoid 
 a possible deadly silence. 
 
 " It is rather large to get around in a week," answered 
 Ames, pleasantly. 
 
 He was an exceedingly genial soul, this young man, 
 and wholly free of affectation. It seemed to Carrie he 
 was as yet only overcoming the last traces of the bash- 
 fulness of youth. He did not seem apt at conversation, 
 but he had the merit of being well dressed and wholly 
 courageous. Carrie felt as if it were not going to b 
 hard to talk to him.
 
 350 
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 " Well, I guess we're ready now. The coach is out' 
 side." 
 
 " Come on, people," said Mrs. Vance, coming in smil- 
 ing. " Bob, you'll have to look after Mrs. Wheeler." 
 
 " I'll try to," said Bob smiling, and edging closer to 
 Carrie. " You won't need much watching, will you? " 
 he volunteered, in a sort of ingratiating and help-me- 
 out kind of way. 
 
 " Not very, I hope," said Carrie. 
 
 They descended the stairs, Mrs. Vance offering sug- 
 gestions, and climbed into the open coach. 
 
 " All right," said Vance, slamming the coach door, 
 and the conveyance rolled away. 
 
 " What is it we're going to see? " asked Ames. 
 
 " Sothern," said Vance, " in ' Lord Chumley.' " 
 
 " Oh, he is so good ! " said Mrs. Vance. " He's just 
 the funniest man." 
 
 " I notice the papers praise it," said Ames. 
 
 " I haven't any doubt," put in Vance, " but we'll all 
 enjoy it very much." 
 
 Ames had taken a seat beside Carrie, and accordingly 
 he felt it his bounden duty to pay her some attention. 
 He was interested to find her so young a wife, and so 
 pretty, though it was only a respectful interest. There 
 was nothing of the dashing lady's man about him. He 
 had respect for the married state, and thought only of 
 some pretty marriageable girls in Indianapolis. 
 
 "Are you a born New Yorker?" asked Ames of 
 Carrie. 
 
 " Oh, no ; I've only been here for two years." 
 
 " Oh, well, you've had time to see a great deal of it, 
 anyhow." 
 
 " I don't seem to have," answered Carrie. " It's 
 about as strange to me as when I first came here." 
 
 " You're not from the W T est, are you ? "
 
 SISTER CARRIE 351 
 
 " Yes. I'm from Wisconsin," she answered. 
 
 " Well, it does seem as if most people in this town 
 haven't been here so very long. I hear of lots of In- 
 diana people in my line who are here." 
 
 " What is your line?" asked Carrie. 
 
 " I'm connected with an electrical company," said 
 the youth. 
 
 Carrie followed up In is desultory conversation with 
 occasional interruptions from the Vances. Several 
 times it became general and partially humorous, and in 
 that manner the restaurant was reached. 
 
 Carrie had noticed the appearance of gayety and pleas- 
 ure-seeking in the streets which they were following. 
 Coaches were numerous, pedestrians many, and in 
 Fifty-ninth Street the street cars were crowded. At 
 Fifty-ninth Street and Fifth Avenue a blaze of lights 
 from several new hotels which bordered the Plaza 
 Square gave a suggestion of sumptuous hotel life. 
 Fifth Avenue, the home of the wealthy, was noticeably 
 crowded with carriages, and gentlemen in evening 
 dress. At Sherry's an imposing doorman opened the 
 coach door and helped them out. Young Ames held 
 Carrie's elbow as he helped her up the steps. They 
 entered the lobby already swarming with patrons, and 
 then, after divesting themselves of their wraps, went 
 into a sumptuous dining-room. 
 
 In all Carrie's experience she had never seen any- 
 thing like this. In the whole time she had been in New 
 York Hurstwood's modified state had not permitted 
 his bringing her to such a place. There was an almost 
 indescribable atmosphere about it which convinced the 
 newcomer that this was the proper thing. Here was 
 the place where the matter of expense limited the pa- 
 trons to the moneyed or pleasure-loving class. Carrie 
 had read of it often in the " Morning " and " Evening
 
 352 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 World." She had seen notices of dances, parties, balls 
 and suppers at Sherry's. The Misses So-and-so would 
 give a party on Wednesday evening at Sherry's. 
 Young Mr. So-and-so would entertain a party of friends 
 at a private luncheon on the sixteenth, at Sherry's. 
 The common run of conventional, perfunctory notices 
 of the doings of society, which she could scarcely re- 
 frain from scanning each day, :>.i\d given her a distinct 
 idea of the gorgeousness and luxury of this wonderful 
 temple of gastronomy. Now, at last, she was really in 
 it. She had come up the imposing steps, guarded by 
 the large and portly doorman. She had seen the lobby, 
 guarded by another large and portly gentleman, and 
 been waited upon by uniformed youths who took care 
 of canes, overcoats, and the like. Here was the splendid 
 dining-chamber, all decorated and aglow, where the 
 wealthy ate. Ah, how fortunate was Mrs. Vance ; 
 young, beautiful, and well off at least, sufficiently so 
 to come here in a coach. What a wonderful thing it 
 was to be rich. 
 
 Vance led the way through lanes of shining tables, 
 ftt which were seated parties of two, three, four, five, 
 or six. The air of assurance and dignity about it all 
 was exceedingly noticeable to the novitiate. Incan- 
 descent lights, the reflection of their glow in polished 
 glasses, and the shine of gilt upon the walls, combined 
 into one tone of light which it requires minutes of 
 complacent observation to separate and take particular 
 note of. The white shirt fronts of the gentlemen, the 
 bright costumes of the ladies, diamonds, jewels, fine 
 feathers all were exceedingly noticeable. 
 
 Carrie walked with an air equal to that of Mrs. Vance, 
 and accepted the seat which the head waiter provided 
 for her. She was keenly aware of all the little things 
 that were done the little genuflections and attentions
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 353 
 
 of the waiters and head waiter which Americans pay 
 for. The air with which the latter pulled out each 
 chair, and the wave of the hand with which he mo- 
 tioned them to be seated, were worth several dollars 
 in themselves. 
 
 Once seated, there began that exhibition of showy, 
 wasteful, and unwholesome gastronomy as practised 
 by wealthy Americans, which is the wonder and aston- 
 ishment of true culture and dignity the world over. 
 The large bill of fare held an array of dishes sufficient 
 to feed an army, sidelined with prices which made rea- 
 sonable expenditure a ridiculous impossibility an 
 order of soup at fifty cents or a dollar, with a dozen 
 kinds to choose from ; oysters in forty styles and at 
 sixty cents the half-dozen ; entrees, fish, and meats 
 at prices which would house one over night in an aver- 
 age hotel. One dollar fifty and two dollars seemed 
 to be the most common figures upon this most taste- 
 fully printed bill of fare. 
 
 Carrie noticed this, and in scanning it the price of 
 spring chicken carried her back to that other bill of 
 fare and far different occasion when, for the first time, 
 she sat with Drouet in a good restaurant in Chicago. 
 It was only momentary a sad note as out of an old 
 song and then it was gone. But in that flash was 
 seen the other Carrie poor, hungry, drifting at her 
 wits' ends, and all Chicago a cold and closed world, 
 from which she only wandered because she could not 
 find work. 
 
 On the walls were designs in colour, square spots 
 of robin's-egg blue, set in ornate frames of gilt, whose 
 corners were elaborate mouldings of fruit and flowers, 
 with fat cupids hovering in angelic comfort. On the 
 ceilings were coloured traceries with more gilt, lead- 
 ing to a centre where spread a cluster of lights in-
 
 354 
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 candescent globes mingled with glittering prisms and 
 stucco tendrils of gilt. The floor was of a reddish hue, 
 waxed and polished, and in every direction were mir- 
 rors tall, brilliant, bevel-edged mirrors reflecting and 
 re-reflecting forms, faces, and candelabra a score and a 
 hundred times. 
 
 The tables were not so remarkable in themselves, and 
 yet the imprint of Sherry upon the napery, the name of 
 Tiffany upon the silverware, the name of Haviland 
 upon the china, and over all the glow of the small, red- 
 shaded candelabra and the reflected tints of the walls 
 on garments and faces, made them seem remarkable. 
 Each waiter added an air of exclusiveness and elegance 
 by the manner in which he bowed, scraped, touched, 
 and trifled with things. The exclusively personal at- 
 tentionwhich he devoted to each one, standing half bent, 
 ear to one side, elbows akimbo, saying: " Soup green 
 turtle, yes. One portion, yes. Oysters certainly 
 half-dozen yes. Asparagus. Olives yes." 
 
 It would be the same with each one, only Vance es- 
 sayed to order for all, inviting counsel and suggestions. 
 Carrie studied the company with open eyes. So this 
 was high life in New York. It was so that the rich 
 spent their days and evenings. Her poor little mind 
 could not rise above applying each scene to all society. 
 Every fine lady must be in the crowd on Broadway in 
 the afternoon, in the theatre at the matinee, in the 
 coaches and dining-halls at night. It must be glow 
 and shine everywhere, with coaches waiting, and foot- 
 men attending, and she was out of it all. In two long 
 years she had never even been in such a place as 
 this. 
 
 Vance was in his element here, as Hurstwood would 
 have been in former days. He ordered freely of soup, 
 oysters, roast meats, and side dishes, and had several 
 
 V
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 355 
 
 bottles of wine brought, which were set down beside 
 the table in a wicker basket. 
 
 Ames was looking away rather abstractedly at the 
 crowd and showed an interesting profile to Carrie. His 
 forehead was high, his nose rather large and strong, his 
 chin moderately pleasing. He had a good, wide, well- 
 shaped mouth, and his dark-brown hair was parted 
 slightly on one side. He seemed to have the least 
 touch of boyishness to Carrie, and yet he was a man 
 full grown. 
 
 " Do you know," he said, turning back to Carrie, 
 after his reflection, " I sometimes think it is a 
 shame for people to spend so much money this 
 way." 
 
 Carrie looked at him a moment with the faintest 
 touch of surprise at his seriousness. He seemed to be 
 thinking about something over which she had never 
 pondered. 
 
 " Do you?" she answered, interestedly. 
 
 " Yes," he said, " they pay so much more than these 
 things are worth. They put on so much show." 
 
 " I don't know why people shouldn't spend when 
 they have it," said Mrs. Vance. 
 
 " It doesn't do any harm," said Vance, who was still 
 studying the bill of fare, though he had ordered. 
 
 Ames was looking away again, and Carrie was again 
 looking at his forehead. To her he seemed to be think- 
 ing about strange things. As he studied the crowd his 
 eye was mild. 
 
 " Look at that woman's dress over there," he 
 said, again turning to Carrie, and nodding in a di- 
 rection. 
 
 " Where? " said Carrie, following his eyes. 
 
 " Over there in the corner way over. Do you see 
 that brooch?"
 
 356 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 " Isn't it large? " said Carrie. 
 
 " One of the largest clusters of jewels I have ever 
 seen," said Ames. 
 
 " It is, isn't it ? " said Carrie. She felt as if she would 
 like to be agreeable to this young man, and also there 
 came with it, or perhaps preceded it, the slightest shade 
 of a feeling that he was better educated than she was 
 that his mind was better. He seemed to look it, and 
 the saving grace in Carrie was that she could under- 
 stand that people could be wiser. She had seen a num- 
 ber of people in her life who reminded her of what she 
 had vaguely come to think of as scholars. This strong 
 young man beside her, with his clear, natural look, 
 seemed to get a hold of things which she did not quite 
 understand, but approved of. It was fine to be so, as 
 a man, she thought. 
 
 The conversation changed to a book that was having 
 its vogue at the time " Moulding a Maiden," by Albert 
 Ross. Mrs. Vance had read it. Vance had seen it dis- 
 cussed in some of the papers. 
 
 " A man can make quite a strike writing a book," said 
 Vance. " I notice this fellow Ross is very much talked 
 about." He was looking at Carrie as he spoke. 
 
 " I hadn't heard of him," said Carrie, honestly. 
 
 " Oh, I have," said Mrs. Vance. " He's written lots 
 of things. This last story is pretty good." 
 
 " He doesn't amount to much," said Ames. 
 
 Carrie turned her eyes toward him as to an oracle. 
 
 " His stuff is nearly as bad as ' Dora Thorne/ " con- 
 cluded Ames. 
 
 Carrie felt this as a personal reproof. She read " Dora 
 Thorne," or had a great deal in the past It seemed only 
 fair to her, but she supposed that people thought it very 
 fine. Now this clear-eyed, fine-headed youth, who 
 looked something like a student to her, made fun of it.
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 357 
 
 It was poor to him, not worth reading. She looked 
 down, and for the first time felt the pain of not under- 
 standing. 
 
 Yet there was nothing sarcastic or supercilious in the 
 way Ames spoke. He had very little of that in him. 
 Carrie felt that it was just kindly thought of a high 
 order the right thing to think, and wondered what 
 else was right, according to him. He seemed to notice 
 that she listened and rather sympathised with him, and 
 from now on he talked mostly to her. 
 
 As the waiter bowed and scraped about, felt the 
 dishes to see if they were hot enough, brought spoons 
 and forks, and did all those little attentive things cal- 
 culated to impress the luxury of the situation upon the 
 diner, Ames also leaned slightly to one side and told her 
 of Indianapolis in an intelligent way. He really had a 
 very bright mind, which was finding its chief develop- 
 ment in electrical knowledge. His sympathies for other 
 forms of information, however, and for types of people, 
 were quick and warm. The red glow on his head gave 
 it a sandy tinge and put a bright glint in his eye. Car- 
 rie noticed all these things as he leaned toward her 
 and felt exceedingly young. This man was far ahead 
 of her. He seemed wiser than Hurstwood, saner and 
 brighter than Drouet. He seemed innocent and clean, 
 and she thought that he was exceedingly pleasant. She 
 noticed, also, that his interest in her was a far-off one. 
 She was not in his life, nor any of the things that 
 touched his life, and yet now, as he spoke of these 
 things, they appealed to her. 
 
 " I shouldn't care to be rich," he told her, as the din- 
 ner proceeded and the supply of food warmed up his 
 sympathies ; " not rich enough to spend my money this 
 
 ' \ I 
 
 " Oh, wouldn't you ? ^ said Carrie, the, to her, new
 
 358 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 attitude forcing itself distinctly upon her for the first 
 time. 
 
 " No," he said. " What good would it do? A man 
 doesn't need this sort of thing to be happy." 
 
 Carrie thought of this doubtfully ; but, coming from 
 him, it had weight with her. 
 
 " He probably could be happy," she thought to her- 
 self, " all alone. He's so strong." 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Vance kept up a running fire of inter- 
 ruptions, and these impressive things by Ames came at 
 odd moments. They were sufficient, however, for the 
 atmosphere that went with this youth impressed itself 
 upon Carrie without words. There was something in 
 him, or the world he moved in, which appealed to her. 
 He reminded her of scenes she had seen on the stage 
 the sorrows and sacrifices that always went with she 
 knew not what. He had taken away some of the bit- 
 terness of the contrast between this life and her life, 
 and all by a certain calm indifference which concerned 
 only him. 
 
 As they went out, he took her arm and helped her 
 into the coach, and then they were off again, and so to 
 the show. 
 
 During the acts Carrie found herself listening to him 
 very attentively. He mentioned things in the play 
 which she most approved of things which swayed her 
 deeply. 
 
 " Don't you think it rather fine to be an actor? " she 
 asked once. 
 
 " Yes, I do," he said, " to be a good one. I think the 
 theatre a great thing." 
 
 Just this little approval set Carrie's heart bounding. 
 Ah, if she could only be an actress a good one ! This 
 man was wise he knew and he approved of it. If 
 she tvere a fine actress, such men as he would approve
 
 SISTER CARRIE 359 
 
 of her. She felt that he was good to speak as he had, 
 although it did not concern her at 'all. She did not 
 know why she felt this way. 
 
 At the close of the show it suddenly developed that 
 he was not going back with them. 
 
 " Oh, aren't you?" said Carrie, with an unwarrant- 
 able feeling. 
 
 " Oh, no," he said ; " I'm stopping right around here 
 in Thirty-third Street." 
 
 Carrie could not say anything else, but somehow this 
 development shocked her. She had been regretting the 
 wane of a pleasant evening, but she had thought there 
 was a half-hour more. Oh, the half-hours, the minutes 
 of the world ; what miseries and griefs are crowded into 
 them! 
 
 She said good-bye with feigned indifference. What 
 matter could it make? Still, the coach seemed lorn. 
 
 When she went into her own flat she had this to think 
 about. She did not know whether she would ever see 
 this man any more. What difference could it make 
 what difference could it make? 
 
 Hurstwood had returned, and was already in bed. His 
 clothes were scattered loosely about. Carrie came to 
 the door and saw him, then retreated. She did not 
 want to go in yet a while. She wanted to think. It was 
 disagreeable to her. 
 
 Back in the dining-room she sat in her chair and 
 rocked. Her little hands were folded tightly as she 
 thought. Through a fog of longing and conflicting de- 
 sires she was beginning to see. Oh, ye legions of hope 
 and pity of sorrow and pain ! She was rocking, and 
 beginning to see.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII 
 
 WITHOUT THE WALLED CITY : THE SLOPE OF THE YEARS 
 
 The immediate result of this was nothing. Results 
 from such things are usually long in growing. Morn- 
 ing brings a change of feeling. The existent condition 
 invariably pleads for itself. It is only at odd moments 
 that we get glimpses of the misery of things. The 
 heart understands when it is confronted with contrasts. 
 Take them away and the ache subsides. 
 
 Carrie went on, leading much this same life for six 
 months thereafter or more. She did not see Ames any 
 more. He called once upon the Vances, but she only 
 heard about it through the young wife. Then he went 
 West, and there was a gradual subsidence of whatever 
 personal attraction had existed. The mental effect of 
 the thing had not gone, however, and never would en- 
 tirely. She had an ideal to contrast men by particu- 
 larly men close to her. 
 
 "^During all this time a period rapidly approaching 
 three years Hurstwood had been moving along in an 
 even path. There was no apparent slope downward, 
 and distinctly none upward, so far as the casual obser- 
 ver might have seen. But psychologically there was a 
 change, which was marked enough to suggest the fu- 
 ture very distinctly indeed. This was in the mere 
 matter of the halt his career had received when he de- 
 parted from Chicago. A man's fortune or material 
 progress is very much the same as his bodily growth. 
 Either he is growing stronger, healthier, wiser, as the
 
 SISTER CARRIE 361 
 
 j 
 
 youth approaching manhood, or he is growing weaker, 
 older, less incisive mentally, as the man approaching 
 old age. There are no other states. Frequently there 
 is a period between the cessation of youthful accretion 
 and the setting in, in the case of the middle-aged man, 
 of the tendency toward decay when the two processes 
 are almost perfectly balanced and there is little doing 
 in either direction. Given time enough, however, the 
 balance becomes a sagging to the grave side. Slowly 
 at first, then with a modest momentum, and at last the 
 graveward process is in the full swing. So it is fre- 
 quently with man's fortune. If its process of accretion 
 is never halted, if the balancing stage is never reached, 
 there will be no toppling. Rich men are, frequently, 
 in these days, saved from this dissolution of their for- 
 tune by their ability to hire younger brains. These 
 younger brains look upon the interests of the fortune 
 as their own, and so steady and direct its progress. If 
 each individual were left absolutely to the care of his 
 own interests, and w r ere given time enough in which to 
 grow exceedingly old, his fortune would pass as his 
 strength and will. He and his would be utterly dis- 
 solved and scattered unto the four winds of the 
 heavens. 
 
 But now see wherein the parallel changes. A for- 
 tune, like a man, is an organism which draws to itself 
 other minds and other strength than that inherent in 
 the founder. Beside the young minds drawn to it by 
 salaries, it becomes allied with young forces, which 
 make for its existence even when the strength and wis- 
 dom of the founder are fading. It may be conserved by 
 the growth of a community or of a state. It may be 
 involved in providing something for which there is a 
 growing demand. This removes it at once beyond the 
 special care of the founder. It needs not so much fore-
 
 362 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 sight now as direction. The man wanes, the need con- 
 tinues or grows, and the fortune, fallen into whose 
 hands it may, continues. Hence, some men never rec- 
 ognise the turning in the tide of their abilities. It is 
 only in chance cases, where a fortune or a state of suc- 
 cess is wrested from them, that the lack of ability to do 
 as they did formerly becomes apparent. Hurstwood, 
 set down under new conditions, was in a position to see 
 that he was no longer young. If he did not, it was due 
 wholly to the fact that his state was so well balanced 
 that an absolute change for the worse did not show. 
 
 Not trained to reason or introspect himself, he could 
 not analyse the change that was taking place in his 
 mind, and hence his body, but he felt the depression of 
 it. Constant comparison between his old state and his 
 new showed a balance for the worse, which produced 
 a constant state of gloom or, at least, depression. Now, 
 it has been shown experimentally that a constantly 
 subdued frame of mind produces certain poisons in the 
 blood, called katastates, just as virtuous feelings of 
 pleasure and delight produce helpful chemicals called 
 anastates. The poisons generated by remorse inveigh 
 against the system, and eventually produce marked 
 physical deterioration. To these Hurstwood was sub- 
 ject. 
 
 In the course of time it told upon his temper. His 
 eye no longer possessed that buoyant, searching shrewd- 
 ness which had characterised it in Adams Street. His 
 step was not as sharp and firm. He w r as given to think- 
 ing, thinking, thinking. The new friends he made were 
 not celebrities. They were of a cheaper, a slightly more 
 -.sensual and cruder, grade. He could not possibly take 
 the pleasure in this company that he had in that of 
 those fine frequenters of the Chicago resort. He was 
 left to brood.
 
 SISTER CARRIE 363 
 
 Slowly, exceedingly slowly, his desire to greet, con- 
 ciliate, and make at home these people who visited the 
 Warren Street place passed from him. More and more 
 slowly the significance of the realm he had left began 
 to be clear. It did not seem so wonderful to be in it 
 when he was in it. It had seemed very easy for any 
 one to get up there and have ample raiment and money 
 to spend, but now that he was out of it, how far off it 
 became. He began to see as one sees a city with a wall 
 about it. Men were posted at the gates. You could 
 not get in. Those inside did not care to come out to 
 see who you were. They were so merry inside there 
 that all those outside were forgotten, and he was on the 
 outside. 
 
 Each day he could read in the evening papers of the 
 doings within this walled city. In the notices of pas- 
 sengers for Europe he read the names of eminent fre- 
 quenters of his old resort. In the theatrical column ap- 
 peared, from time to time, announcements of the latest 
 successes of men he had known. He knew that they 
 were at their old gayeties. Pullmans were hauling them 
 to and fro about the land, papers were greeting them 
 with interesting mentions, the elegant lobbies of hotels 
 and the glow of polished dining-rooms were keeping 
 them close within the walled city. Men whom he had 
 known, men whom he had tipped glasses with rich 
 men, and he was forgotten! Who was Mr. Wheeler? 
 What was the Warren Street resort? Bah! 
 
 If one thinks that such thoughts do not come to so 
 common a type of mind that such feelings require a 
 higher mental development I would urge for their 
 consideration the fact that it is the higher mental devel- 
 opment that does away with such thoughts. It is the 
 higher mental development which induces philosophy 
 and that fortitude which refuses to dwell upon such
 
 364 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 things refuses to be made to suffer by their considera- 
 tion. The common type of mind is exceedingly keen 
 on all matters which relate to its physical welfare 
 exceedingly keen. It is the unintellectual miser who 
 sweats blood at the loss of a hundred dollars. It is the 
 Epictetus who smiles when the last vestige of physical 
 welfare is removed. 
 
 The time came, in the third year, when this thinking 
 began to produce results in the Warren Street place. 
 The tide of patronage dropped a little below what it 
 had been at its best since he had been there. This irri- 
 tated and worried him. 
 
 There came a night when he confessed to Carrie that 
 the business was not doing as well this month as it had 
 the month before. This was in lieu of certain sugges- 
 tions she had made concerning little things she wanted 
 to buy. She had not failed to notice that he did not 
 seem to consult her about buying clothes for himself. 
 For the first time, it struck her as a ruse, or that he 
 said it so that she would not think of asking for things. 
 Her reply was mild enough, but her thoughts were 
 rebellious. He was not looking after her at all. She 
 was depending for her enjoyment upon the Vances. 
 
 And now the latter announced that they were going 
 away. It was approaching spring, and they were 
 going North. 
 
 " Oh, yes," said Mrs. Vance to Carrie, " we think we 
 might as well give up the flat and store our things. 
 We'll be gone for the summer, and it would be a useless 
 expense. I think we'll settle a little farther down town 
 when we come back." 
 
 Carrie heard this with genuine sorrow. She had en- 
 joyed Mrs. Vance's companionship so much. There 
 was no one else in the house, whom she knew. Again 
 she would be all alone.
 
 SISTER CARRIE 365 
 
 Hurstwood's gloom over the slight decrease in prof- 
 its and the departure of the Vances came together. So 
 Carrie had loneliness and this mood of her husband to 
 enjoy at the same time. It was a grievous thing. She 
 became restless and dissatisfied, not exactly, as she 
 thought,*' with Hurstwood, but wjth life. What was it? 
 A very dull round indeed. What did she have ? Noth- 
 ing but this narrow, little flat. The Vances could 
 travel, they could do the things worth doing, and here 
 she was. For what was she made, anyhow? More 
 thought followed, and then tears tears seemed jus- 
 tified, and the only relief in the world. 
 
 For another period this state continued, the twain 
 leading a rather monotonous life, and then there was 
 a slight change for the worse. One evening, Hurst- 
 wood, after thinking about a way to modify Carrie's 
 
 desire for clothes and the general strain upon his ability 
 & f j 
 
 to provide, said: 
 
 " I don't think I'll ever be able to do much with 
 Shaughnessy." 
 
 " What's the matter? " said Carrie. 
 
 " Oh, he's a slow, greedy ' mick ' ! He won't agree to 
 anything to improve the place, and it won't ever pay 
 without it." 
 
 " Can't you make him?" said Carrie. 
 
 " No ; I've tried. The only thing I can see, if I want 
 to improve, is to get hold of a place of my own." 
 
 " Why don't you? " said Carrie. 
 
 " Well, all I have is tied up in there just now. If I 
 had a chance to save a while I think I could open a place 
 that would give us plenty of money." 
 
 " Can't we save? " said Carrie. 
 
 " We might try it," he suggested. " I've been think- 
 ing that if we'd take a smaller flat down town and live 
 economically for a year, I would have enough, with
 
 ?66 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 what I have invested, to open a good place. Then we 
 could arrange to live as you want to." 
 
 " It would suit me all right," said Carrie, who, never- 
 theless, felt badly to think it had come to this. Talk of 
 a smaller flat sounded like poverty. 
 
 " There are lots of nice little flats down around Sixth 
 Avenue, below Fourteenth Street. We might get one 
 down there." 
 
 " I'll look at them if you say so," said Carrie. 
 
 " I think I could break away from this fellow inside 
 of a year," said Hurstwood. " Nothing will ever come 
 of this arrangement as it's going on now." 
 
 " I'll look around," said Carrie, observing that the 
 proposed change seemed to be a serious thing with him. 
 
 The upshot of this was that the change was eventu- 
 ally effected ; not without great gloom on the part of 
 Carrie. It really affected her more seriously than any- 
 thing that had yet happened. She began to look upon 
 Hurstwood wholly as a man, and not as a lover or hus- 
 band. She felt thoroughly bound to him as a wife, and 
 that her lot was cast with his, whatever it might be; 
 but she began to see that he was gloomy and taciturn, 
 not a young, strong, and buoyant man. He looked a 
 little bit old to her about the eyes and mouth now, and 
 there were other things which placed him in his true 
 rank, so far as her estimation was concerned. She be- 
 gan to feel that she had made a mistake. Incidentally, 
 she also began to recall the fact that he had practically 
 forced her to flee with him. 
 
 The new flat was located in Thirteenth Street, a half 
 block west of Sixth Avenue, and contained only four 
 rooms. The new neighbourhood did not appeal to 
 Carrie as much. There were no trees here, no west 
 view of the river. The street was solidly built up. 
 There were twelve families here, respectable enough,
 
 SISTER CARRIE 367 
 
 but nothing like the Vances. Richer people required 
 more space. 
 
 Being left alone in this little place, Carrie did without 
 a girl. She made it charming enough, but could not 
 make it delight her. Hurstwood was not inwardly 
 pleased to think that they should have to modify their 
 state, but he argued that he could do nothing. He must 
 put the best face on it, and let it go at that 
 
 He tried to show Carrie that there was no cause for 
 financial alarm, but only congratulation over the chance 
 he would have at the end of the year by taking her 
 rather more frequently to the theatre and by providing 
 a liberal table. This was for the time only. Hjj,,w.as 
 getting in the frame of mind where he wanted princi- 
 pally to be alone and to be allowed to think. Thje4is.- 
 ease of brooding was beginning to claim him as a vic- 
 tim. Only the newspapers and his pwn thoughts were 
 worth while. The delight of love had again slipped 
 away. It was a case of live, now, making the best you 
 can out of a very commonplace station in life. 
 
 The road downward has but few landings and level 
 places. The very state of his mind, superinduced by 
 his condition, caused the breach to widen between him 
 and his partner. At last that individual began to wish 
 that Hurstwood was out of it. It so happened, how- 
 ever, that a real estate deal on the part of the owner of 
 the land arranged things even more effectually than 
 ill-will could have schemed. 
 
 " Did you see that? " said Shaughnessy one morning 
 to Hurstwood, pointing to the real estate column in a 
 copy of the " Herald," which he held. 
 
 "No, what is it?" said Hurstwood, looking down 
 the items of news. 
 
 " The man who owns this ground has sold it." 
 
 " You don't say so? " said Hurstwood.
 
 368 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 He looked, and there was the notice. Mr. August 
 Viele had yesterday registered the transfer of the lot, 
 25 x 75 feet, at the corner of Warren and Hudson 
 streets, to J. F. Slawson for the sum of $57,000. 
 
 " Our lease expires when? " asked Hurstwood, think- 
 ing. "Next February, isn't it?" 
 
 " That's right," said Shaughnessy. 
 
 " It doesn't say what the new, juan's Bering to do 
 with it," remarked Hurstwood, looking back to the 
 paper. 
 
 " We'll hear, I guess, soon enough," said Shaugh- 
 nessy. 
 
 Sure enough, it did develop. Mr. Slawson owned 
 the property adjoining, and was going to put up a 
 modern office building. The present one was to be 
 torn down. It would take probably a year and a half 
 to complete the other one. 
 
 All these things developed by degrees, and Hurst- 
 wood began to ponder over what would become of the 
 saloon. One day he spoke about it to his partner. 
 
 " Do you think it would be worth while to open up 
 somewhere else in the neighbourhood?" 
 
 " What would be the use ? " said Shaughnessy. " We 
 couldn't get another corner around here." 
 
 " It wouldn't pay anywhere else, do you think? " 
 
 " I wouldn't try it," said the other. 
 
 The approaching change now took on a most serious 
 aspect to Hurstwood. Dissolution meant the loss of 
 his thousand dollars, and he could not save another 
 thousand in the time. He understood that Shaugh- 
 nessy was merely tired of the arrangement, and would 
 probably lease the new corner, when completed, alone. 
 He began to worry about the necessity of a new con- 
 nection and to see impending serious financial straits 
 unless something turned up. This left him in no mood
 
 SISTER CARRIE 369 
 
 to enjoy his flat or Carrie, and consequently the depres- 
 sion invaded that quarter. 
 
 Meanwhile, he took such time as he could to look 
 about, but opportunities were not numerous. More, 
 he had not the same impressive personality which he 
 had when he first came to New York. Bad thoughts 
 had put a shade into his eyes which did not impress 
 others favourably. Neither had he thirteen hundred 
 dollars in hand to talk with. About a month later, 
 finding that he had not made any progress, Shaugh- 
 nessy reported definitely that Slawson would not ex- 
 tend the lease. 
 
 " I guess this thing's got to come to an end," he said, 
 affecting an air of concern. 
 
 " Well, if it has, it has/' answered Hurstwood, 
 grimly. He would not give the other a key to his 
 opinions, whatever they were. He should not have 
 the satisfaction. 
 
 A day or two later he saw that he must say some- 
 thing to Carrie. 
 
 " You know," he said, " I think I'm going to get the 
 worst of my deal down there." 
 
 " How is that? " asked Carrie in astonishment. 
 
 " Well, the man who owns the ground has sold it, 
 and the new owner won't re-lease it to us. The business 
 may come to an end." 
 
 " Can't you start somewhere else? " 
 
 " There doesn't seem to be any place. Shaughnessy 
 doesn't want to." 
 
 " Do yo.u lose what you put in? " 
 
 " Yes," said Hurstwood, whose face was a study. 
 
 " Oh, isn't that too bad? " said Carrie. 
 
 " It's a trick," said Hurstwood. " That's all. They'll 
 start another place there all right." 
 
 Carrie looked at him, and gathered from his whole
 
 370 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 demeanour what it meant. It was serious, very 
 serious. 
 
 "Do you think you can get something else?" she 
 ventured, timidly. 
 
 Hurstwood thought a while. It was all up with the 
 bluff about money and investment. She could see now 
 that he was " broke." 
 
 " I don't know," he said solemnly ; " I can try."
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV 
 
 THE GRIND OF THE MILLSTONES: A SAMPLE OF CHAFF 
 
 Carrie pondered over this situation as consistently as 
 Hurstwood, once she got the facts adjusted in her mind. 
 It took several days for her to fully realise that the 
 approach of the dissolution of her husband's business 
 meant commonplace struggle and privation. Her mind 
 went back to her early venture in Chicago, the Han- 
 sons and their flat, and her heart revolted. That was 
 terrible ! Everything about poverty was terrible. She 
 wished she knew a way out. Her recent experiences 
 with the Vances had wholly unfitted her to view her 
 own state with complacence. The glamour of the high 
 life of the city had, in the few experiences afforded her 
 by the former, seized her completely. She had been 
 taught how to dress and where to go without having 
 ample means to do either. Now, these things ever- 
 present realities as they were filled her eyes and mind. 
 The more circumscribed became her state, the more 
 entrancing seemed this other. And now poverty threat- 
 ened to seize icr entirely and to remove this other 
 world far upward like a heaven to which any Lazarus 
 might extend, appealingly, his hands. 
 
 So, too, the ideal brought into her life by Ames re- 
 mained. He had gone, but here was his word that 
 riches were not everything ; that there was a great deal 
 more in the world than she knew ; that the stage was 
 good, and the literature she read poor. He was a
 
 372 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 strong man and clean how much stronger and better 
 than Hurstwood and Drouet she only half formulated 
 to herself, but the difference was painful. It was some- 
 thing to which she voluntarily closed her eyes. 
 
 During the last three months of the Warren Street 
 connection, Hurstwood took parts of days off and 
 hunted, tracking the business advertisements. It was a 
 more or less depressing business, wholly because of the 
 thought that he must soon get something or he would 
 begin to live on the few hundred dollars he was saving, 
 and then he would have nothing to invest he would 
 have to hire out as a clerk. 
 
 Everything he discovered in his line advertised as an 
 opportunity, was either too expensive or too wretched 
 for him. Besides, winter was coming, the papers were 
 announcing hardships, and there was a general feeling 
 of hard times in the air, or, at least, he thought so. In 
 his worry, other people's worries became apparent. No 
 item about a firm failing, a family starving, or a man 
 dying upon the streets, supposedly of starvation, but 
 arrested his eye as he scanned the morning papers. 
 Once the " World " came out with a flaring announce- 
 ment about" 80,000 people out of employment in New 
 York this winter," which struck as a knife at his heart. 
 
 " Eighty thousand ! " he thought. " What an awful 
 thing that is." 
 
 This was new reasoning for Hurstwood. In the old 
 days the world had seemed to be getting along well 
 enough. He had been wont to see similar things in 
 the " Daily News," in Chicago, but they did not hold 
 his attention. Now, these things were like grey clouds 
 hovering along the horizon of a clear day. They 
 threatened to cover and obscure his life with chilly 
 greyness. He tried to shake them off, to forget an4 
 brace up. Sometimes he said to himself, mentally:
 
 SISTER CARRIE 373 
 
 "What's the use worrying? I'm not out yet. I've 
 got six weeks more. Even if worst comes to worst, 
 I've got enough to live on for six months." 
 
 Curiously, as he troubled over his future, his 
 thoughts occasionally reverted to his wife and family. 
 He had avoided such thoughts for the first three years 
 as much as possible. He hated her, and he could 
 get along without her. Let her go. He would do well 
 enough. Now, however, when he was not doing well 
 enough, he began to wonder what she was doing, how 
 his children were getting along. He could see them 
 living as nicely as ever, occupying the comfortable 
 house and using his property. 
 
 " By George ! it's a shame they should have it all," 
 he vaguely thought to himself on several occasions. 
 " I didn't do anything." 
 
 As he looked back now and analysed the situation 
 which led up to his taking the money, he began mildly 
 to justify himself. What had he done what in the : 
 world that should bar him out this way and heap such 
 difficulties upon him ? It seemed only yesterday to him 
 since he was comfortable and well-to-do. But now it 
 was all wrested from him. 
 
 " She didn't deserve what she got out of me, that is 
 sure. I didn't do so much, if everybody could just 
 know." 
 
 There was no thought that the facts ought to be ad- 
 vertised. It was only a mental justification he was 
 seeking from himself something that would enable 
 him to bear his state as a righteous man. 
 
 One afternoon, five weeks before the Warren Street 
 place closed up, he left the saloon to visit three or four 
 places he saw advertised in the " Herald." One was 
 down in Gold Street, and he visited that, but did not 
 enter. It was such a cheap looking place he felt that
 
 374 
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 he could not abide it. Another was on the Bowery, 
 which he knew contained many showy resorts. It was 
 near Grand Street, and turned out to be very hand- 
 somely fitted up. He talked around about investments 
 for fully three-quarters of an hour with the proprietor, 
 who maintained that his health was poor, and that was 
 the reason he wished a partner. 
 
 " Well, now, just how much money would it take to 
 buy a half interest here?" said Hurstwood, who saw 
 seven hundred dollars as his limit. 
 
 " Three thousand," said the man. 
 
 Hurstwood's jaw fell. 
 
 " Cash ? " he said. 
 
 " Cash." 
 
 He tried to put on an air of deliberation, as one who 
 might really buy; but his eyes showed gloom. He 
 wound up by saying he would think it over, and came 
 away. The man he had been talking to sensed his 
 condition in a vague way. 
 
 " I don't think he wants to buy," he said to himself. 
 " He doesn't talk right." 
 
 The afternoon was as grey as lead and cold. It was 
 blowing up a disagreeable winter wind. He visited a 
 place far up on the east side, near Sixty-ninth Street, 
 and it was five o'clock, and growing dim, when he 
 reached there. A portly German kept this place. 
 
 " How about this ad. of yours?" asked Hurstwood, 
 who rather objected to the looks of the place. 
 
 " Oh, dat iss all over," said the German. " I vill not 
 tell now." 
 
 "Oh, is that so?" 
 
 " Yes ; dere is nothing to dat. It iss all over." 
 
 " Very well," said Hurstwood, turning around. 
 
 The German paid no more attention to him, and it 
 him angry.
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 375 
 
 " The crazy ass ! " he said to himself. " What does 
 he want to advertise for? " 
 
 Wholly depressed, he started for Thirteenth Street. 
 The flat had only a light in the kitchen, where Carrie 
 was working. He struck a match and, lighting the gas, 
 sat down in the dining-room without even greeting her. 
 She came to the door and looked in. 
 
 " It's you, is it? " she said, and went back. 
 
 " Yes," he said, without even looking up from the 
 evening paper he had bought. 
 
 Carrie saw things were wrong with him. He was 
 not so handsome when gloomy. The lines at the sides 
 of the eyes were deepened. Naturally dark of skin, 
 gloom made him look slightly sinister. He was quite 
 a disagreeable figure. 
 
 Carrie set the table and brought in the meal. 
 
 " Dinner's ready," she said, passing him for some- 
 thing. 
 
 He did not answer, reading on. 
 
 She came in and sat down at her place, feeling ex- 
 ceedingly wretched. 
 
 " Won't you eat now? " she asked. 
 
 He folded his paper and drew near, silence holding 
 for a time, except for the " Pass me's." 
 
 " It's been gloomy to-day, hasn't it?" ventured Car- 
 rie, after a time. 
 
 " Yes," he said. 
 
 He only picked at his food. 
 
 " Are you still sure to close up ? " said Carrie, ventur- 
 ing to take up the subject which they had discussed 
 often enough. 
 
 " Of course we are," he said, with the slightest modi- 
 fication of sharpness. 
 
 Thisureloxt angered Carrie. She had had a dreary 
 day of it herself.
 
 376 
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 " You needn't talk like that," she said. 
 
 " Oh ! " he exclaimed, pushing back from the table, aa 
 if to say more, but letting it go at that. Then he picked 
 up his paper. Carrie left her seat, containing herself 
 with difficulty. He saw she was hurt. 
 
 " Don't go 'way," he said, as she started back into 
 the kitchen. " Eat your dinner." 
 
 She passed, not answering. 
 
 He looked at the paper a few moments, and then rose 
 up and put on his coat. 
 
 " I'm going down town, Carrie," he said, coming out. 
 " I'm out of sorts to-night." 
 
 She did not answer. 
 
 " Don't be angry," he said. " It will be all right to- 
 morrow." 
 
 He looked at her, but she paid no attention to him, 
 working at her dishes. 
 
 " Good-bye ! " he said finally, and went out. 
 
 This was the first strong result of the situation be- 
 tween them, but with the nearing of the last day of the 
 business the gloom became almost a permanent thing. 
 Hurstwood could not conceal his feelings about the 
 matter. Carrie could not help wondering where she 
 was drifting. It got so that they talked even less than 
 usual, and yet it was not Hurstwood who felt any ob- 
 jection to Carrie. It was Carrie who shied away from 
 him. This he noticed. It aroused an objection to 
 her becoming indifferent to him. He made the possi- 
 bility of friendly intercourse almost a giant task, and 
 then noticed with discontent that Carrie added to it by 
 her manner and made it more impossible. 
 
 At last the final day came. When it actually ar- 
 rived, Hurstwood, who had got his mind into such a 
 state where a thunder-clap and raging storm would 
 have seemed highly appropriate, was rather relieved to
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 377 
 
 find that it was a plain, ordinary day. The sun shone, 
 the temperature was pleasant. He felt, as he came to 
 the breakfast table, that it wasn't so terrible, after all. 
 
 " Well," he said to Carrie, " to-day's my last day on- 
 earth." 
 
 Carrie smiled in answer to his humour. 
 
 Hurstwood glanced over his paper rather gayly. He 
 seemed to have lost a load. 
 
 " I'll go down for a little while," he said after break* 
 fast, " and then I'll look around. To-morrow I'll speni 
 the whole day looking about. I think I can get some- 
 thing, now this thing's off my hands." 
 
 He went out smiling and visited the place. Shaugh- 
 nessy was there. They had made all arrangements to 
 share according to their interests. When, however, he 
 had been there several hours, gone out three more, and 
 returned, his elation had departed. As much as he had 
 objected to the place, now that it was no longer to exist, 
 he felt sorry. He wished that things were different. 
 
 Shaughnessy was coolly business-like. 
 
 " Well," he said at five o'clock, " we might as well 
 count the change and divide." 
 
 They did so. The fixtures had already been sold and 
 the sum divided. 
 
 " Good-night," said Hurstwood at the final moment, 
 in a last effort to be genial. 
 
 " So long," said Shaughnessy, scarcely deigning t 
 notice. 
 
 Thus the Warren Street arrangement was per- 
 manently concluded. 
 
 Carrie had prepared a good dinner at the flat, but 
 after his ride up, Hurstwood was in a solemn and re- 
 flective mood. 
 
 " Well ? " said Carrie, inquisitively. 
 
 " I'm out of that," he answered, taking off his coat.
 
 
 378 SISTER CARRIz 
 
 As she looked at him, she wondered what his finan- 
 cial state was now. They ate and talked a little. 
 
 "Will you have enough to buy in anywhere else?" 
 asked Carrie. 
 
 " No," he said. " I'll have to get something else and 
 save up." 
 
 " It would be nice if you could get some place," said 
 Carrie, prompted by anxiety and hope. 
 
 " I guess I will," he said reflectively. 
 
 For some days thereafter he put on his overcoat 
 regularly in the morning and sallied forth. On these 
 ventures he first consoled himself with the thought 
 that with the seven hundred dollars he had he could 
 still make some advantageous arrangement. He 
 thought about going to some brewery, which, as he 
 knew, frequently controlled saloons which they leased, 
 and get them to help him. Then he remembered that 
 he would have to pay out several hundred any way for 
 fixtures and that he would have nothing left for his 
 monthly expenses. It was costing him nearly eighty 
 dollars a month to live. 
 
 " No," he said, in his sanest moments, " I can't do it. 
 I'll get something else and save up." 
 
 This getting-something proposition complicated it- 
 self the moment he began to think of what it was he 
 wanted to do. Manage a place? Where should he get 
 such a position ? The papers contained no requests for 
 managers. Such positions, he knew well enough, were 
 either secured by long years of service or were bought 
 with a half or third interest. Into a place important 
 enough to need such a manager he had not money 
 enough to buy. 
 
 Nevertheless, he started out. His clothes were very 
 good and his appearance still excellent, but it involved 
 the trouble of deluding. People, looking at him, im-
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 379 
 
 agined instantly that a man of his age, stout and well 
 dressed, must be well off. He appeared a comfortable 
 owner of something, a man from whom the common 
 run of mortals could well expect gratuities. Being now 
 forty-three years of age, and comfortably built, walking 
 was not easy. He had not been used to exercise for 
 many years. His legs tired, his shoulders ached, and 
 his feet pained him at the close of the day, even when 
 he took street cars in almost every direction. The mere 
 getting up and down, if long continued, produced this 
 result. 
 
 The fact that people took him to be better off than he 
 was, he well understood. It was so painfully clear to 
 him that it retarded his search. Not that he wished to 
 be less well-appearing, but that he was ashamed to belie 
 his appearance by incongruous appeals. So he hesi- 
 tated, wondering what to do. 
 
 He thought of the hotels, but instantly he remembered 
 that he had had no experience as a clerk, and, what was 
 more important, no acquaintances or friends in that line 
 to whom he could go. He did know some hotel owners 
 in several cities, including New York, but they knew of 
 his dealings with Fitzgerald and Moy. He could not 
 apply to them. He thought of other lines suggested by 
 large buildings or businesses which he knew of whole- 
 sale groceries, hardware, insurance concerns, and the 
 like but he had had no experience. 
 
 How to go about getting anything was a bitter 
 thought. Would he have to go personally and ask ; 
 wait outside an office door, and, then, distinguished and 
 affluent looking, announce that he was looking for 
 something to do? He strained painfully at the thought. 
 No, he could not do that. 
 
 He really strolled about, thinking, and then, the 
 \veatherbeing cold, stepped into a hotel. He knew hotels
 
 380 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 well enough to know that any decent looking individual 
 was welcome to a chair in the lobby. This was in the 
 Broadway Central, which was then one of the most im- 
 portant hotels in the city. Taking a chair here was a 
 painful thing to him. To think he should come to this ! 
 He had heard loungers about hotels called chair- 
 warmers. He had called them that himself in his 
 day. But here he was, despite the possibility of 
 meeting some one who knew him, shielding himself 
 from cold and the weariness of the streets in a hotel 
 lobby. 
 
 " I can't do this way," he said to himself. " There's 
 no use of my starting out mornings without first think- 
 ing up some place to go. I'll think of some places and 
 then look them up." 
 
 It occurred to him that the positions of Bartenders 
 were sometimes open, but he put this out of his mind. 
 Bartender he, the ex-manager! 
 
 It grew awfully dull sitting in the hotel lobby, and so 
 at four he went home. He tried to put on a business 
 air as he went in, but it was a feeble imitation. The 
 rocking-chair in the dining-room was comfortable. He 
 sank into it gladly, with several papers he had bought, 
 and began to read. 
 
 As she was going through the room to begin prepar- 
 ing dinner, Carrie said : 
 
 " The man was here for the rent to-day." 
 
 " Oh, was he? " said Hurstwood. 
 
 The least wrinkle crept into his brow as he remem- 
 bered that this was February 2d, the time the man al- 
 ways called. He fished down in his pocket for his 
 purse, getting the first taste of paying out when noth- 
 ing is coming in. He looked at the fat, green roll as a 
 sick man looks at the one possible saving cure. Then 
 he counted off twenty-eight dollars.
 
 SISTER CARRIE 381 
 
 " Here you are," he said to Carrie, when she came 
 through again. 
 
 He buried himself in his papers and read. Oh, the 
 rest of it the relief from walking and thinking ! What 
 Lethean waters were these floods of telegraphed intel- 
 ligence ! He forgot his troubles, in part. Here was a 
 young, handsome woman, if you might believe the 
 newspaper drawing, suing a rich, fat, candy-making 
 husband in Brooklyn for divorce. Here was another 
 item detailing the wrecking of a vessel in ice and snow 
 off Prince's Bay on Staten Island. A long, bright col- 
 umn told of the doings in the theatrical world the 
 plays produced, the actors appearing, the managers 
 making announcements. Fannie Davenport was just 
 opening at the Fifth Avenue. Daly was producing 
 " King Lear." He read of the early departure for the 
 season of a party composed of the Vanderbilts and their 
 friends for Florida. An interesting shooting affray 
 was on in the mountains of Kentucky. So he read, 
 read, read, rocking in the warm room near the radiato^ 
 and waiting for dinner to be served.
 
 CHAPTER XXXV 
 
 THE PASSING OF EFFORT : THE VISAGE OF CARE 
 
 The next morning he looked over the papers and 
 waded through a long list of advertisements, making a 
 few notes. Then he turned to the male-help-wanted 
 column, but with disagreeable feelings. The day was 
 before him a long day in which to discover something 
 and this was how he must begin to discover. He 
 scanned the long column, which mostly concerned 
 bakers, bushelmen, cooks, compositors, drivers, and the 
 like, finding two things only which arrested his eye. 
 One was a cashier wanted in a wholesale furniture 
 house, and the other a ^salesman for a whiskey house. 
 He had never thought of the latter. At once he de- 
 cided to look that up. 
 
 The firm in question was Alsbery & Co., whiskey 
 brokers. 
 
 He was admitted almost at once to the manager on 
 his appearance. 
 
 " Good-morning, sir," said the latter, thinking at first 
 that he was encountering one of his out-of-town cus- 
 tomers. 
 
 " Good-morning," said Hurstwood. " You adver' 
 tised, I believe, for a salesman? " 
 
 " Oh," said the man, showing plainly the enlighten- 
 ment which had come to him. " Yes. Yes, I did." 
 
 "I thought I'd drop in," said Hurstwood, with dig 
 nity. " I've had some experience in that line myself
 
 SISTER CARRIE 383 
 
 " Oh, have you ? " said the man. " What experience 
 have you had? " 
 
 " Well, I've managed several liquor houses in my 
 time. Recently I owned a third-interest in a saloon 
 at Warren and Hudson streets." 
 
 " I see," said the man. 
 
 Hurstwood ceased, waiting for some suggestion. 
 
 " We did want a salesman," said the man. " I don't 
 know as it's anything you'd care to take hold of, 
 though." 
 
 " I see," said Hurstwood. " Well, I'm in no position 
 to choose, just at present. If it were open, I should be 
 glad to get it." 
 
 The man did not take kindly at all to his " No posi- 
 tion to choose." He wanted some one who wasn't 
 thinking of a choice or something better. Especially 
 not an old man. He wanted some one young, active, 
 and glad to work actively for a moderate sum. Hurst- 
 wood did not please him at all. He had more of an air 
 than his employers. 
 
 " Well," he said in answer, " we'd be glad to con- 
 sider your application. We shan't decide for a few 
 days yet. Suppose you send us your references." 
 
 " I will," said Hurstwood. 
 
 He nodded good-morning and came away. At the 
 corner he looked at the furniture company's address, 
 and saw that it was in West Twenty-third Street. Ac- 
 cordingly, he went up there. The place was not large 
 enough, however. It looked moderate, the men in it- 
 idle and small salaried. He walked by, glancing in, 
 and then decided not to go in there. 
 
 " They want a girl, probably, at ten a week," he said. 
 
 At one o'clock he thought of eating, and went to z 
 restaurant in Madison Square. There he pondered 
 over places which he might look up. He was tired. It
 
 384 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 was blowing up grey again. Across the way, through 
 Madison Square Park, stood the great hotels, looking 
 down upon a busy scene. He decided to go over to the 
 lobby of one and sit a while. It was warm in there and 
 bright. He had seen no one he knew at the Broadway 
 Central. In all likelihood he would encounter no one 
 here. Finding a seat on one of the red plush divans 
 close to the great windows which look out on Broad- 
 way's busy rout, he sat musing. His state did not seem 
 so bad in here. Sitting still and looking out, he could 
 take some slight consolation in the few hundred dollars 
 he had in his purse. He could forget, in a measure, the 
 weariness of the street and his tiresome searches. Still, 
 it was only escape from a severe to a less severe state. 
 He was still gloomy and disheartened. There, minutes 
 seemed to go very slowly. An hour was a long, long 
 time in passing. It was filled for him with observa- 
 tions and mental comments concerning the actual 
 guests of the hotel, who passed in and out, and those 
 more prosperous pedestrians whose good fortune 
 showed in their clothes and spirits as they passed along 
 Broadway, outside. It was nearly the first time since 
 he had arrived in the city that his leisure afforded him 
 ample opportunity to contemplate this spectacle. Now, 
 being, perforce, idle himself, he wondered at the activity 
 of others. How gay were the youths he saw, how pretty 
 the women. Such fine clothes they all wore. They were 
 so intent upon getting somewhere. He saw coquet- 
 tish glances cast by magnificent girls. Ah, the money 
 it required to train with such how well he knew! 
 How long it had been since he had had the opportunity 
 to do so ! 
 
 The clock outside registered four. It was a little 
 early, but he thought he would go back to the flat. 
 
 This going back to the flat was coupled with the
 
 SISTER CARRIE 385' 
 
 thought that Carrie would think he was sitting around 
 too much if he came home early. He hoped he wouldn't 
 have to, but the day hung heavily on his hands. Over 
 there he was on his own ground. He could sit in his 
 rocking-chair and read. This busy, distracting, sug- 
 gestive scene was shut out. He could read his papers. 
 Accordingly, he went home. Carrie was reading, quite 
 alone. It was rather dark in the flat, shut in as it was. 
 
 " You'll hurt your eyes," he said when he saw her. 
 
 After taking off his coat, he felt it incumbent upon 
 him to make some little report of his day. 
 
 "I've been talking with a wholesale liquor company," 
 he said. " I may go out on the road." 
 
 " Wouldn't that be nice ! " said Carrie. 
 
 " It wouldn't be such a bad tiling," he answered. 
 
 Always from the man at the corner now he bought 
 two papers the " Evening World " and " Evening 
 Sun." So now he merely picked his papers up, as he 
 came by, without stopping. 
 
 He drew up his chair near the radiator and lighted 
 the gas. Then it was as the evening before. His dif- 
 ficulties vanished in the items he so well loved to read. 
 
 The next day was even worse than the one before, 
 because now he could not think of where to go. Noth- 
 ing he saw in the papers he studied till ten o'clock 
 appealed to him. He felt that he ought to go out, and 
 yet he sickened at the thought. Where to, where to? 
 
 " You mustn't forget to leave me my money for this 
 week," said Carrie, quietly. 
 
 They had an arrangement by which he placed twelve 
 dollars a week in her hands, out of which to pay current 
 expenses, lie heaved a little sigh.as she said this, and 
 drew out his purse. Again he felt the dread of the 
 thing. Here he was taking off, taking off, and nothing 
 coming inT " 
 
 Mt
 
 3 86 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 " Lord ! " he said, in his own thoughts, " this can't gs 
 on." 
 
 To Carrie he said nothing whatsoever. She could 
 feel that her request disturbed him. To pay her would 
 soon become a distressing thing. 
 
 " Yet, what have I got to do with it? " she thought. 
 " Oh, why should I be made to worry?" 
 
 Hurstwood went out and made for Broadway. He 
 wanted to think up some place. Before long, though, 
 he reached the Grand Hotel at Thirty-first Street. He 
 knew of its comfortable lobby. He was cold after his 
 twenty blocks' walk. 
 
 '' I'll go in their barber shop and get a shave," he 
 thought. 
 
 Thus he justified himself in sitting down in here after 
 his tonsorial treatment. 
 
 Again, time hanging heavily on his hands, he went 
 home early, and this continued for several days, each 
 day the need to hunt paining him, and each day disgust, 
 epression, shamefacedness driving him into lobby 
 
 idl< 
 
 At last three days came in which a storm prevailed, 
 and he did not go out at all. The snow began to fall 
 late one afternoon. It was a regular flurry of large, 
 soft, white flakes. In the morning it was still coming 
 down with a high wind, and the papers announced a 
 blizzard. From out the front windows one could see 
 a deep, soft bedding. 
 
 " I guess I'll not try to go out to-day," he said to 
 Carrie at breakfast. " It's going to be awful bad, so 
 the papers say." 
 
 " The man hasn't brought^my^coalj either," said Car- 
 rie, whoofdered by the oushel. 
 
 " I'll go over and see abput.it," said Hurstwood. This 
 was the first time he had ever suggested doing an
 
 SISTER CARRIE 387 
 
 errand, but, somehow, the wish to sit about the 
 house prompted it as a sort of compensation for the 
 privilege. 
 
 All day and all night it snowed, and the city began 
 to suffer from a general blockade of traffic. Great at- 
 tention was given to the details of the storm by the 
 newspapers, which played up the distress of the poor 
 in large type. 
 
 Hurstwood sat and read by his radiator in the corner. 
 He did not try to think about his need of work. This 
 storm being so terrific, and tying up all things, robbed 
 him of the need. He made himself wholly comfortable 
 and toasted his feet. 
 
 Carrie observed his ease with some misgiving. For 
 all the fury of the storm she doubted his comfort. He 
 took his situation too philosophically. 
 
 Hurstwood, however, read on and on. He did not 
 pay much attention to Carrie. She fulfilled her house- 
 hold duties and said little to disturb him. 
 
 The next day it was still snowing, and the next, bitter 
 cold. Hurstwood took the alarm of the paper and sat 
 still. NOW he volunteered to do a few Other little 
 things. One was to go to the butcher, another to the 
 grocery. He really thought nothing of these little ser- 
 vices in connection with their true significance. He 
 felt as if he were not wholly useless indeed, in such a 
 stress of weather, quite worth while about the house. 
 
 On the fourth day, however, it^cleared, and he read 
 that the storm was over. Now, however, he idled, 
 thinking how sloppy the streets would be. 
 
 It was noon before he finally abandoned his papers 
 and got under way. Owing to the slightly warmei 
 temperature the streets were bad. He went across 
 Fourteenth Street on the car and got a transfer south on 
 Broadway. One little advertisement he had, relating
 
 388 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 to a saloon down in Pearl Street. When he reached 
 the Broadway Central, however, he changed his 
 mind. 
 
 " What's the use ? " he thought, looking out upon the 
 slop and snow. " I couldn't buy into it. It's a thou- 
 sand to one nothing comes of it. I guess I'll get off," 
 and off he got. In the lobby he took a seat and waited 
 again, wondering what he could do. 
 
 While he was idly pondering, satisfied to be inside, 
 a well-dressed man passed up the lobby, stopped, 
 looked sharply, as if not sure of his memory, and then 
 approached. Hurstwood recognised Cargill, the owner 
 of the large stables in Chicago of the same name, whom 
 he had last seen at Avery Hall, the night Carrie ap- 
 peared there. The remembrance of how this individual 
 brought up his wife to shake hands on that occasion 
 was also on the instant clear. 
 
 Hurstwood was greatly abashed. His eyes expressed 
 the difficulty he felt. 
 
 " Why, it's Hurstwood ! " said Cargill, remember- 
 ing now, and sorry that he had not recognised him 
 quickly enough in the beginning to have avoided this 
 meeting. 
 
 " Yes," said Hurstwood. " How are you? " 
 
 " Very well," said Cargill, troubled for something to 
 talk about. " Stopping here? " 
 
 " No," said Hurstwood, " just keeping an appoint- 
 ment." 
 
 " I knew you had left Chicago. I was wondering 
 what had become of you." 
 
 " Oh, I'm here now," answered Hurstwood, anxious 
 to get away. 
 
 " Doing well, I suppose? " 
 
 " Excellent." 
 
 " Glad to hear it."
 
 SISTER CARRIE 389 
 
 They looked at one another, rather embarrassed. 
 
 " Well, I have an engagement with a friend upstair;}, 
 I'll leave you. So long." 
 
 Hurstwood nodded his head. 
 
 " Damn it all," he murmured, turning toward the 
 door. " I knew that would happen." 
 
 He walked several blocks up the street. His watcK 
 only registered 1.30. He tried to think of some place, 
 to go or something to do. The day was so bad he 
 wanted only to be inside. Finally his feet began to feel 
 wet and cold, andljie boarded a car. This took him tcj 
 Fifty-ninth Street, which was as good as anywhere else 
 Landed here, he turned to walk back along Seventh 
 Avenue, but the^ slush was too much. The misery of 
 lounging about with nowhere to go became intolerable 
 He felt as if he were catching cold. 
 
 Stopping at a corner, he waited for a car south bound 
 This was no day to be out; he would go home. 
 
 Carrie was surprised to see him at a quarter .oJLthree. 
 
 " It's a miserable day out," was all he said. Then he 
 took off his coat and changed his shoes. 
 
 That night he felt a cold coming on and took quinine. 
 He was feverish until morning, and sat about the next 
 day while Carrie waited on him. He was a helpless 
 creature in sickness, not very handsome in a dull- 
 coloured bath gown and his hair uncombed. He looked 
 haggard about the eyes and quite old. Carrie noticed 
 this, and it did not appeal to her. She wanted to be 
 good-natured and sympathetic, but something about 
 
 j r ' o 
 
 the man held her aloof. 
 
 Toward evening he looked so badly in the weak light 
 that she suggested he go to bed. 
 
 " You'd better sleep alone," she said, " you'll feel 
 better. I'll open your bed for you now." 
 
 " All right." he said.
 
 390 
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 As she did all these things, she was in a most de- 
 spondent state. 
 
 " What a life ! What a .life ! " was her one thought. 
 
 Once during the day, when he sat near the radiator, 
 hunched up and reading, she passed through, and see- 
 ing him, wrinkle ' her brows. In the front room, where 
 it was not so warm, she sat by the window and cried. 
 This was the life cut out for her, was it? To live cooped 
 up in a small flat with some one who was out of work, 
 idle, and indifferent to her. She was merely a servant 
 to him now, nothing more. 
 
 This crying made her eyes red, and when, in prepar- 
 ing his bed, she lighted the gas, and, having prepared 
 it, called him in, he noticed the fact. 
 
 " What's the matter with you ? " he asked, looking 
 into her face. His voice was hoarse and his unkempt 
 head only added to its grewsome quality. 
 
 " Nothing," said Carrie, weakly. 
 
 " You've been crying," he said. 
 
 " I haven't, either," she answered. 
 
 It was not for love of him, that he knew. 
 
 "You needn't cry," he said, getting into bed. 
 " Things will come out all right." 
 
 In a day or two he was up again, but rough weathe? 
 holding, he stayed in. The Italian newsdealer now de- 
 livered the morning papers, and these he read assidu- 
 ously. A few times after that he ventured out, but 
 meeting another of his old-time friends, he began to feel 
 uneasy sitting about hotel corridors. 
 
 Every day he came home early, and at last made no 
 pretence of going anywhere. Winter was no time to 
 look for anything. 
 
 Naturally, being about the house, he noticed the way 
 Carrie did things. She was far from perfect in house- 
 hold methods and economy, and her little deviations on
 
 SISTER CARRIE 391 
 
 this score first caught his eye. Not, however, before 
 her regular demand for her allowance became a griev- 
 ous thing. Sitting around as he did, the weeks seemed 
 to pass very quickly. Every Tuesday Cani* aakedfar 
 her money. 
 
 ' DCL you think we live as cheaply as we might?" he 
 asked one Tuesday morning. 
 
 " I do the best I can," said Carrie. 
 
 Nothing was added to this at the moment, but the 
 next day he said : 
 
 " Do you ever go to the Gansevoort Market over 
 here?" 
 
 " I didn't know there was such a market," said Carrie. 
 
 " They say you can get things lots cheaper there." 
 
 Carrie was very indifferent to the suggestion. These 
 were things which she did not like at all. 
 
 " How much do you pay for a pound of meat ? " he 
 asked one day. 
 
 " Oh, there are different prices," said Carrie. " Sir- 
 loin steak is twenty-two cents." 
 
 " That's steep, isn't it? " he answered. 
 
 So he asked about other things, until finally, with the 
 passing days, it seemed to become a mama with him. 
 He learned the prices and remembered them. 
 
 Hjis errand-running capacity also improved. It be- 
 gan in a small way, of course. Carrie, going to get her 
 hat one morning, was stopped by him. 
 
 " Where are you going, Carrie? " he asked. 
 
 " Over to the baker's," she answered. 
 
 " I'd just as leave go for you," he said. 
 
 She acquiesced, and he went. Each afternoon he 
 would go to the corner for the papers. 
 
 " Is there anything you want? " he would say. 
 
 By degrees she began to use him. Doing this, how- 
 ever, she lost the weekly payment of twelve dollars.
 
 392 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 " You want to pay me to-day," she said one Tuesday, 
 about this time. 
 
 " How much? " he asked. 
 
 She understood well enough what it meant. 
 
 " Well, about five dollars," she answered. " I oww 
 the coal man." 
 
 The same day he said : 
 
 " I think this Italian up here on the corner sells coal 
 at twenty-five cents a bushel. I'll trade with him." 
 
 Carrie heard this with indifference. 
 
 " All right," she said. 
 
 Then it came to be : 
 
 " George, I must have some coal to-day," or, " You 
 must get some meat of some kind for dinner." 
 
 He would find out what she needed and order. 
 
 Accompanying this plan came skimpiness. 
 
 " I only got a half-pound of steak," he said, coming 
 in one^^ternooiTwitETii^papers. " We never seem to 
 eat very much." 
 
 These miserable details ate the heart out of Carrie. 
 They blackened her days and grieved her soul. Oh, 
 how this man had changed ! All day and all day, here he 
 sat, reading his papers. The world seemed to have no 
 attraction. Once in a while he would go out, in fine 
 weather, it might be four or five hours, between eleven 
 and four. She could do nothing but view him with 
 gnawing contempt. 
 
 It was apathy with Hurstwpod, resulting from his 
 inability to see his way out. Each month drew from 
 his small store. Now, he had only five hundred dol- 
 lars left, and this he hugged, half feeling as if he could 
 stave off absolute necessity for an indefinite period. 
 Sitting around the house, he decided to wear some old 
 clothes he had. This came first with the bad days. 
 Only once he apologised in the very beginning:
 
 SISTER CARRIE 393 
 
 " It's so bad to-day, I'll just wear these around." 
 
 Eventually these became the permanent thing. 
 
 Also, he had been wont to pay fifteen cents for a 
 shave, and a tip of ten cents. In his first distress, he 
 cut down the tip to five, then to nothing. Later, he 
 tried a ten-cent barber shop, and, finding that the shave 
 was satisfactory, patronised regularly. Later still, he 
 put off shaving to every other day, then to^e very third, 
 and so on, until once a week became the rule. On 
 Saturday he was a sight to see. 
 
 Of course, as his own self-respect vanished, it per- 
 ished for him in Carrie. She could not understand 
 what had gotten into the man. He had some money, 
 he had a decent suit remaining, he was not bad looking 
 when dressed up. She did not forget her own difficult 
 struggle in Chicago, but she did not forget either that 
 she had never ceased trying. He never tried. He did 
 not even consult the ads. in the papers any more. 
 
 Finally, a distinct impression escaped from her. 
 
 " What makes you put so much butter on the steak? " 
 he asked her one evening, standing around in the 
 kitchen. 
 
 " To make it good, of course," she answered. 
 
 " Butter is awful dear these days," he suggested. 
 
 " You wouldn't mind it if you were working," she 
 answered. 
 
 He shut up after this, and went in to his paper, but 
 the retort rankled in his mind. It was the first cutting 
 remark that had come from her. 
 
 That same evening, .Carrie, after reading, went off 
 to the front room to bed. This was unusual. When 
 Hurstwood decided to go, he retired, as usual, without 
 a light. It was then that he discovered Carrie's 
 absence. 
 
 " That's funny," he said ; " maybe she's sitting up."
 
 394 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 He gave the matter no more thought, but slept. In 
 the morning she was not beside him. Strange to say, 
 this passed without comment. 
 
 Night approaching, and a slightly more conversa- 
 tional feeling prevailing, Carrie said : 
 
 " I think I'll sleep alone to-night. I have a head- 
 ache." 
 
 " All right," said Hurstwood. 
 
 The third night she went to her front bed without 
 apologies. 
 
 This was a grim blow to Hurstwood, but he never 
 mentioned it. 
 
 "All right," he said to himself, with an irrepressible 
 frown, " let her sleep alone."
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI 
 A GRIM RETROGRESSION: THE PHANTOM OF CHANCE 
 
 The Vances, who had been back in the city ever since 
 Christmas, had not forgotten Carrie ; but they, or rather 
 Mrs. Vance, had never called on her, for the very sim- 
 pTe"f easoh that Carrie had never sent her address. True 
 to her nature, she corresponded with Mrs. Vance as 
 long as she still lived in Seventy-eighth Street, but 
 when she was compelled to move into Thirteenth, her 
 fear that the latter would take it as an indication of re- 
 duced circumstances caused her to study some way of 
 avoiding the necessity of giving her address. Not find- 
 ing any convenient method, she sorrowfully resigned 
 the privilege of writing to her friend entirely. The lat- 
 ter wondered at this strange silence, thought Carrie 
 must have left the city, and in the end gave her up as 
 lost. So she was thoroughly surprised to encounter 
 her in Fourteenth Street, where she had gone shopping. 
 Carrie was there for the same purpose. 
 
 " Why, Mrs. Wheeler," said Mrs. Vance, looking 
 Carrie over in a glance, " where have you been? Why 
 haven't you been to see me? I've been wondering all 
 this time what had become of you. Really, I " 
 
 " I'm so glad to see you," said Carrie, pleased and 
 yet nonplussed. Of all times, this was the worst to 
 encounter Mrs. Vance. " Why, I'm living down town 
 here. I've been intending to come and see you. Where 
 are you living now ? "
 
 396 
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 " In Fifty-eighth Street," said Mrs. Vance, "just off 
 Seventh Avenue 218. Why don't you come and see 
 me?" 
 
 " I will," said Carrie. " Really, I've been wanting to 
 come. I know I ought to. It's a shame. But you 
 know- " 
 
 " What's your number? " said Mrs. Vance. 
 
 "Thirteenth Street," said Carrie, reluctantly. " 112 
 West." 
 
 " Oh," said Mrs. Vance, " that's right near here, isn't 
 it?" 
 
 " Yes," said Carrie. " You must come down and see 
 me some time." 
 
 " Well, you're a fine one," said Mrs. Vance, laughing, 
 the while noting that Carrie's appearance had modified 
 somewhat. " The address, too," she added to herself. 
 " They must be hard up." 
 
 Still she liked Carrie well enough to take her in tow. 
 
 " Come with me in here a minute," she exclaimed, 
 turning into a store. 
 
 When Carrie returned home, there was Hurstwoo<vs 
 reading as usual. He seemed to take his condition 
 with the utmost nonchalance. His beard was at least 
 four days old. 
 
 " Oh," thought Carrie, " if she were to come here and 
 see him ? " 
 
 She shook her head in absolute misery. It looked as 
 if her situation was becoming unbearable. 
 
 Driven to desperation, she asked at dinner: 
 
 " Did you ever hear any more from that wholesale 
 house? " 
 
 " No," he said. " They don't want an inexperienced 
 man." 
 
 Carrie dropped the subject, feeling unable to say 
 more.
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 397 
 
 " I met Mrs. Vance this afternoon," she said, after a 
 time. 
 
 " Did, eh? " he answered. 
 
 " They're back in New York now," Carrie went on. 
 " She did look so nice." 
 
 " Well, she can afford it as long as he puts up for it,'" 
 returned Hurstwood. " He's got a soft job." 
 
 Hurstwood was looking into the paper. He could 
 not see the look of infinite weariness and discontent 
 Carrie gave him. 
 
 " She said she thought she'd call here some day." 
 
 " She's been long getting round to it, hasn't she?" 
 said Hurstwood, with a kind of sarcasm. 
 
 The woman didn't appeal to him from her spending 
 side. 
 
 " Oh, I don't know," said Carrie, angered by the 
 man's attitude. " Perhaps I didn't want her to 
 come." 
 
 " She's too gay," said Hurstwood, significantly. " No 
 one can keep up with her pace unless they've got a lot 
 of money." 
 
 " Mr. Vance doesn't seem to find it very hard." 
 
 " He may not now," answered Hurstwood, doggedly, 
 well understanding the inference ; " but his life isn't 
 done yet. You can't tell what'll happen. He may get 
 down like anybody else." 
 
 There was something quite knavish in the man's atti- 
 tude. His eye seemed to be cocked with a twinkle upon 
 the fortunate, expecting their defeat. His own state 
 seemed a thing apart not considered. 
 
 This thing was the remains of his old-time cocksure- 
 ness and independence. Sitting in his flat, and read- 
 ing of the doings of other people, sometimes this inde- 
 pendent, undefeated mood came upon him. Forgetting 
 the weariness of the streets and the degradation of
 
 39* 
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 search, he would sometimes prick up his ears. It was 
 as if he said : 
 
 " I can do something. Fin not down yet. There's 
 A lot of things coming to me if I want to go after them." 
 
 It was in this mood that he would occasionally dress 
 ap, go for a shave, and, putting on his gloves, sally forth 
 quite actively. Not with any definite aim. It was 
 more a barometric condition. He felt just right for 
 being outside and doing something. 
 
 On such occasions^ his money went also. He knew 
 of several poker rooms down town. A few acquain- 
 tances he had in down-town resorts and about the City 
 Hall. It was a change to see them and exchange a few 
 friendly commonplaces. 
 
 He had once been accustomed to hold a pretty fair 
 hand at poker. Many a friendly game had netted him 
 a hundred dollars or more at the time when that sum 
 was merely sauce to the dish of the game not the all 
 in all. Now, he thought of playing. 
 
 " I might win a couple of hundred. I'm not out of 
 practice." 
 
 It is but fair to say that this thought had occurred 
 to him several times before he acted upon it. 
 
 The poker room which he first invaded was over a 
 saloon in West Street, near one of the ferries. He had 
 been there before. Several games were going. These 
 he watched for a time and noticed that the pots were 
 quite large for the ante involved. 
 
 " Deal me a hand," he said at the beginning of a new- 
 shuffle. He pulled up a chair and studied his cards. 
 Those playing made that quiet study of him which is 
 so unapparent, and yet invariably so searching. 
 
 Poor fortune was with him at first. He received a 
 mixed collection without progression or pairs. The 
 pot was opened.
 
 SISTER CARRIE 399 
 
 " I pass," he said. 
 
 On the strength of this, he was content to lose his 
 ante. The deals did fairly by him in the long run, caus- 
 ing him to come away with a few dollars to the good. 
 
 The next afternoon he was back again, seeking 
 amusement and profit. This time he followed up three 
 of a kind to his doom. There was a better hand across 
 the table, held by a pugnacious Irish youth, who was 
 a political hanger-on of the Tammany district in which 
 they were located. Hurstwood was surprised at the 
 persistence of this individual, whose bets came with a 
 sang-froid which, if a bluff, was excellent art. Hurst- 
 wood began to doubt, but kept, or thought to keep, at 
 least, the cool demeanour with which, in olden times, 
 he deceived those psychic students of the gaming table, 
 who seem to read thoughts and moods, rather than ex- 
 terior evidences, however subtle. He could not down 
 the cowardly thought that this man had something bet- 
 ter and would stay to the end, drawing his last dollar 
 into the pot, should he choose to go so far. Still, he 
 hoped to win much his hand was excellent. Why not 
 raise it five more? 
 
 " I raise you three," said the youth. 
 
 " Make it five," said Hurstwood, pushing out his chips. 
 
 " Come again," said the youth, pushing out a small 
 pile of reds. 
 
 " Let me have some more chips," said Hurstwood to 
 the keeper in charge, taking out a bill. 
 
 A cynical grin lit up the face of his youthful oppo- 
 nent. When the chips were laid out, Hurstwood met 
 the raise. 
 
 " Five again," said the youth. 
 
 Hurstwood's brow was wet. He was deep in now 
 very deep for him. Sixty dollars of his good money 
 was up. He was ordinarily no coward, but the thought
 
 400 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 pi losing so much weakened him. Finally he gave way. 
 He would not trust to this fine hand any longer. 
 
 " I call," he said. 
 
 " A^full^ house ! " said the youth, spreading out his 
 cards. 
 
 Hurstwood's hand dropped. 
 
 " I thought I had you," he said, weakly. 
 
 The youth raked in his chips, and Hurstwood came 
 away, not without first stopping to count his remaining 
 cash on the stair. 
 
 " Three hundred and forty dollars," he said. 
 
 With this loss and ordinary expenses, so much had 
 already gone. 
 
 Back in the flat, he decided he would play no more. 
 
 Remembering Mrs. Vance's promise to call, Carrie 
 made one other mild protest. It was concerning Hurst- 
 wood's appearance. This very day, coming home, he 
 changed his clothes to the old togs he sat around in. 
 
 " What makes you always put on those old clothes? " 
 asked Carrie. 
 
 " What's the use wearing my good ones around 
 here?" he asked. 
 
 " Well, I should think you'd feel better." Then she 
 added : " Some one might call." 
 
 "Who? 'Hie "said. 
 
 " Well, Mrs. Vance," said Carrie. 
 
 " She needn't see me," he answered, sullenly. 
 
 This lack of pride and interest made Carrie almost 
 hate him. 
 
 " Oh," she thought, " there he sits. ' She needn't see 
 pie/ I should think he would be ashamed of himself." 
 
 The real bitterness of this thing was added when 
 Mrs. Vance did call. It was on one of her shopping 
 rounds. Making her way up the commonplace hall, 
 she knocked at Carrie's door. To her subsequent and
 
 SISTER CARRIE 401 
 
 agonising distress, Carrie was out. Hurstwood opened 
 the door, half-thinking that the knock was Carrie's. 
 For once, he was taken honestly aback. The lost voice 
 of youth and pride spoke in him. 
 
 " Why," he said, actually stammering, " how do you 
 do?" 
 
 " How do you do ? " said Mrs. Vance, who could 
 scarcely believe her eyes. His great confusion she in- 
 stantly perceived. He did not know whether to invite 
 her in or not. 
 
 " Is your wife at home? " she inquired. 
 
 " No," he said, " Carrie's out ; but won't you step in ? 
 She'll be back shortly." 
 
 " No-o," said Mrs. Vance, realising the change of it 
 all. " I'm really very much in a hurry. I thought I'd 
 just run up and look in, but I couldn't stay. Just tell 
 your wife she must come and see me." 
 
 " I will," said Hurstwood, standing back, and feeling 
 intense relief at her going. He was so ashamed that he 
 folded his hands weakly, as he sat in the chair after- 
 wards, and thought. 
 
 Carrie, coming in from another direction, thought she 
 saw Mrs. Vance going away. She strained her eyes, 
 but could not make sure. 
 
 " Was anybody here just now? " she asked of Hurst- 
 wood. 
 
 " Yes," he said guiltily ; " Mrs. Vance." 
 
 " Did she see you ? " she asked, expressing her full 
 despair. 
 
 This cut Hurstwood like a whip, and made him 
 sullen. 
 
 " If she had eyes, she did. I opened the door." 
 
 " Oh," said Carrie, closing one hand tightly out ol. 
 sheer nervousness. " What did she have to say? " 
 
 " Nothing," he answered. " She couldn't stay."
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 And you looking like that ! " said Carrie, throwing 
 aside a long reserve. 
 
 " What of it? " he said, angering. " I didn't know she 
 was coming, did I ? " 
 
 " You knew she might," said Carrie. " I told you she 
 said she was coming. I've asked you a dozen times to 
 wear your other clothes. Oh, I think this is just ter- 
 rible." 
 
 " Oh, let up," he answered. " What difference does 
 it make? You couldn't associate with her, anyway. 
 They've got too much money." 
 
 " Who said I wanted to? " said Carrie, fiercely. 
 
 " Well, you act like it, rowing around over my looks. 
 You'd think I'd committed " 
 
 Carrie interrupted : 
 
 " It's true," she said. " I couldn't if I wanted to, but 
 whose fault is it ? You're very free to sit and talk about 
 who I could associate with. Why don't you get out 
 and look for work ? " 
 
 This was a thunderbolt in camp. 
 
 " What's it to you? " he said, rising, almost fiercely, 
 " I pay the rent, don't I ? I furnish the " 
 
 " Yes, you pay the rent," said Carrie. " You talk aa 
 if there was nothing else in the world but a flat to sit 
 around in. You haven't done a thing for three months 
 except sit around and interfere here. I'd like to know 
 what you married me for? " 
 
 " I didn't marry you," he said, in a snarling tone. 
 
 " I'd like to know what you did, then, in Montreal? " 
 she answered. 
 
 " Well, I didn't marry you," he answered. " You can 
 get that out of your head. You talk as though you 
 didn't know." 
 
 Carrie looked at him a moment, her eyes distending. 
 She had believed it was all legal and binding enough.
 
 SISTEK CARRIE 
 
 403 
 
 ''What did you lie to me for, then? 1 ' she asked, 
 fiercely. " What did you force me to run away with 
 you for ? " 
 
 Her voice became almost a sob. 
 
 " Force ! " he said, with curled lip. " A lot of fore 
 ing I did." 
 
 " Oh ! " said Carrie, breaking under the strain, and 
 turning. " Oh, oh 1 " and she hurried into the f ronf. 
 room. 
 
 Hurstwood was now hot and waked up. It was a 
 great shaking up for him, both mental and moral. He 
 wiped his brow as he looked around, and then went for 
 his clothes and dressed. Not a sound came from Car- 
 rie; she ceased sobbing when she heard him dressing. 
 She thought, at first, with the faintest alarm, of being 
 left without money not of losing him, though he 
 might be going away permanently. She heard him 
 open the top of the wardrobe and take out his hat. Then 
 the dining-room door closed, and she knew he had gone. 
 
 After a few moments of silence, she stood up, dry- 
 eyed, and looked out the window. Hurstwood was 
 just strolling up the street, from the flat, toward Sixth 
 Avenue. 
 
 The latter made progress along Thirteenth and 
 across Fourteenth Street to Union Square. 
 
 " Look for work ! " he said to himself. " Look for 
 work ! She tells me to get out and look for work." 
 
 He tried to shield himself from his own mental accu- 
 sation, which told him that she was right. 
 
 " What a cursed thing that Mrs. Vance's call was, 
 anyhow," he thought. " Stood right there, and looked 
 me over. I know what she was thinking." 
 
 He remembered the few times he had seen her in 
 Seventy-eighth Street. She was always a swell-looker, 
 and he had tried to put on the air of being worthy of
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 such as she, in front of her. Now, to think she had 
 caught him looking this way. He wrinkled his fore- 
 head in his distress. 
 
 " The devil ! " he said a dozen times in an hour. 
 
 It was a quarter after four when he left the house. 
 Carrie was in tears. There would be no dinner that 
 night. 
 
 " What the deuce," he said, swaggering mentally to 
 hide his own shame from himself. " I'm not so bad. 
 I'm not down yet." 
 
 He looked around the square, and seeing the sev- 
 eral large hotels, decided to go to one for dinner. He 
 would get his papers and make himself comfortable 
 there. 
 
 He ascended into the fine parlour of the Morton 
 House, then one of the best. New York hotels, and, find- 
 ing a cushioned seat, read. It did not trouble him much 
 that his decreasing sum of money did not allow of such 
 extravagance. Like the morphine fiend, he was be- 
 coming addicted to his ease. Anything to relieve his 
 mental distress, to satisfy his craving for comfort. He 
 must do it. No thoughts for the morrow he could 
 not stand to think of it any more than he could of any 
 other calamity. Like the certainty of death, he tried 
 to shut the certainty of soon being without a dollar 
 completely out of his mind, and he came very near 
 doing it. 
 
 Well-dressed guests moving to and fro over the thick 
 carpets carried him back to the old days. A young 
 lady, a guest of the house, playing a piano in an alcove 
 pleased him. He sat there reading. 
 
 His dinner cost him $1.50. By eight o'clock he 
 ivas through, and then, seeing guests leaving and the 
 rrowd of pleasure-seekers thickening outside, won- 
 fkred where he should go. Not home. Carrie would
 
 SISTER CARRIE 40$ 
 
 be up. No, he would not go back there this evening, 
 He would stay out and knock around as a man who was 
 independent not broke well might. He bought a 
 cigar, and went outside on the corner where other in- 
 dividuals were lounging brokers, racing people, thes- 
 pians his own flesh and blood. As he stood there, he 
 thought of the old evenings in Chicago, and how he 
 used to dispose of them. Many's the game he had had. 
 This took him to poker. 
 
 " I didn't do that thing right the other day," he 
 thought, referring to his loss of sixty dollars. " I 
 shouldn't have weakened. I could have bluffed that 
 fellow down. I wasn't in form, that's what ailed me." 
 
 Then he studied the possibilities of the game as it had 
 been played, and began to figure how he might have 
 won, in several instances, by bluffing a little harder. 
 
 " I'm old enough to play poker and do something 
 with it. I'll try my hand to-night." 
 
 Visions of a big stake floated before him. Suppos- 
 ing he did win a couple of hundred, wouldn't he be in 
 it? Lots of sports he knew made their living at this 
 game, and a good living, too. 
 
 " They always had as much as I had," he thought. 
 
 So off he went to a poker room in the neighbourhood, 
 feeling much as he had in the old days. In this period 
 of self-forgetfulness, aroused first by the shock of argu- 
 ment and perfected by a dinner in the hotel, with cock- 
 tails and cigars, he was as nearly like the old Hurst- 
 wood as he would ever be again. It was not the old 
 Hurstwood only a man arguing with a divided con- 
 science and lured by a phantom. 
 
 This poker room was much like the other one, only 
 it was a'back room in a better drinking resort. Hurst- 
 wood watched a while, and then, seeing an interesting 
 game, joined in. As before, it went easy for a while,
 
 406 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 he winning a few times and cheering up, losing a few 
 pots and growing more interested and determined on 
 that account. At last the fascinating game took a 
 strong hold on him. He enjoyed its risks and ventured, 
 on a trifling hand, to bluff the company and secure a 
 fair stake. To his self-satisfaction intense and strong, 
 he did it. 
 
 In the height of this feeling he began to think his 
 luck was with him. No one else had done so well. 
 Now came another moderate hand, and again he tried 
 to open the jack-pot on it. There were others there 
 who were almost reading his heart, so close was their 
 observation. 
 
 " I have three of a kind," said one of the players to 
 himself. " I'll just stay with that fellow to the finish." 
 
 The result was that bidding began. 
 
 " I raise you ten." 
 
 " Good." 
 
 " Ten more." 
 
 " Good." 
 
 " Ten again." 
 
 " Right you are." 
 
 It got to where Hurstwood had seventy-five dollars 
 up. The other man really became serious. Perhaps 
 this individual (Hurstwood) really did have a stiff 
 hand. 
 
 " I call," he said. 
 
 Hurstwood showed his hand. He was done. The 
 bitter fact that he had. lost seventy-five dollars made 
 him desperate. 
 
 " Let's have another pot," he said, grimly. 
 
 " All right," said the man. 
 
 Some of the other players quit, but observant loung- 
 ers took their places. Time passed, and it came to 
 twelve o'clock. Hurstwood held on, neither winning
 
 SISTER CARRIE 407 
 
 nor losing much. Then he grew weary, and on a last 
 hand lost twenty more. He was sick at heart. 
 
 At a quarter after one in the morning he came out of 
 the place. The chill, bare streets seemed a mockery of 
 his state. He walked slowly west, little thinking of his 
 row with Carrie. He ascended the stairs and went 
 into his room as if there had been no trouble. It was 
 his loss that occupied his mind. Sitting down on the 
 bedside he counted his money. There was now but a 
 hundred and ninety dollars and some change. He put 
 it. up and began to undress. 
 
 " I wonder what's getting into me, anyhow? " he said. 
 
 In the morning Carrie scarcely spoke., and he felt as 
 if he must go out again. He had treated her badly, but 
 he could not afford to make up. Now desperation 
 seized him, and for a day or two, going out thus, he lived 
 like a gentleman or what he conceived to be a gentle- 
 man w.hich took money. For his escapades he was 
 soon poorer in mind and body, to say nothing of his 
 purse, which had lost thirty by the process. Then he 
 came down to cold, bitter sense again. 
 
 "The rent man comes tp-dlay/' .said Carrie, greeting 
 him thus indifferently three mornings later. 
 
 "He does?" 
 
 " Yes ; this is the second," answered Carrie. 
 
 Hurstwood frowned. Then in despair he got out 
 his purse. 
 
 " It seems an awful lot to pay for rent," he said, 
 
 He was nearing his last hundred dollars.
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII 
 THE SPIRIT AWAKENS: NEW SEARCH FOR THE GATE 
 
 It would be useless to explain how in due time th 
 last fifty dollars was in sight. The seven hundred, by 
 his process of handling, had only carried them into 
 Jjine. Before the final hundred mark was reached he 
 began to indicate that a calamity was approaching. 
 
 " I don't know," he said one day, taking a trivial 
 expenditure for meat as a text, " it seems to take an 
 awful lot for us to live." 
 
 " It doesn't seem to me," said Carrie, " that we spend 
 very much." 
 
 " My money is nearly gone," he said, " and I hardly 
 know where it's gone to." 
 
 " All that seven hundred dollars ? " asked Carrie. 
 
 " All but a hundred." 
 
 He looked so disconsolate that it scared her. She 
 began to see that she herself had been drifting. She 
 had felt it all the time. 
 
 " Well, George," she exclaimed, " why don't you get 
 out and look for something? You could find some- 
 thing." 
 
 " I have looked," he said. " You can't make people 
 give you a place." 
 
 She gazed weakly at him and said : " Well, what do 
 you think you will do? A hundred dollars won't last 
 long." 
 
 " I don't know." he said. " I can't do any more than 
 look."
 
 SISTER CARRIE 409 
 
 Carrie became frightened over this announcement. 
 She thought desperately upon the subject. Frequently 
 she had considered the stage as a door through which 
 she might enter that gilded state which she had so mucb 
 craved. Now, as in Chicago, it came as a last resource 
 in distress. Something must be done if he did not get 
 work soon. Perhaps she would have to go out and 
 battle again alone. 
 
 She began to wonder how one would go about get- 
 ting a place. Her experience in Chicago proved that 
 she had not tried the right way. There must be people 
 who would listen to and try you men who would give 
 you an opportunity. 
 
 They were talking at the breakfast table, a morning 
 or two later, when she brought up the dramatic sub- 
 ject by saying that she saw that Sarah Bernhardt 
 was coming to this country. Hurstwood had seen 
 it, too. 
 
 " How do people get on the stage, George?" she 
 finally asked, innocently. 
 
 " I don't know," he said. " There must be dramatic 
 agents." 
 
 Carrie was sipping coffee, and did not look up. 
 
 " Regular people who get you a place? " 
 
 " Yes, I think so," he answered. 
 
 Suddenly the air with which she asked attracted his 
 attention. 
 
 " You're not still thinking about being an actress, are 
 you? " he asked. 
 
 " No," she answered, " I was just wondering." 
 
 Without being clear, there was something in the 
 thought which he objected to. He did not believe any 
 more, after three years of observation, that Carrie would 
 ever do anything great in that line. She seemed too 
 simple, too yielding. His idea of the art was that it
 
 410 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 involved something more pompous. If she tried to 
 get on the stage she would fall into the hands of some 
 cheap manager and become like the rest of them. He 
 had a good idea of what he meant by them. Carrie was 
 pretty. She would get along all right, but where would 
 he be? 
 
 " I'd get that idea out of my head, if I were you. It's 
 a lot more difficult than you think." 
 
 Carrie felt this to contain, in some way, an aspersion 
 upon her ability. 
 
 " You said I did real well in Chicago," she rejoined. 
 
 " You did," he answered, seeing that he was arousing 
 opposition, " but Chicago isn't New York, by a big 
 jump." 
 
 Carrie did not answer this at all. It hurt her. 
 
 " The stage," he went on, " is all right if you can be 
 one of the big guns, but there's nothing to the rest of it. 
 It takes a long while to get up." 
 
 " Oh, I don't know," said Carrie, slightly aroused. 
 
 In a flash, he thought he foresaw the result of this 
 thing. Now, when the worst of his situation was ap- 
 proaching, she would get on the stage in some cheap 
 way and forsake him. Strangely, he had not conceived 
 well of her mental ability. That was because he did 
 not understand the nature of emotional greatness. He 
 had never learned that a person might be emotionally ' 
 instead of intellectually great. Avery Hall was too 
 far away for him to look back and sharply remember. 
 He had lived with this woman too long. 
 
 " Well, I do," he answered. " If I were you I 
 wouldn't think of it. It's not much of a profession 
 for a woman." 
 
 " It's better than going hungry," said Carrie. " If 
 you don't want me to do that, why don't you get work 
 yourself?"
 
 SISTER CARRIE 411 
 
 There was no answer ready for this. He had got 
 used to the suggestion. 
 
 " Oh, let up," he answered. 
 
 The result of this was that she secretly resolved to 
 t%. It didn't matter about him. She was not going 
 to be dragged into poverty and something worse to 
 suit him. She could act. She could get something 
 and then work up. What would he say then? She 
 pictured herself already appearing in some fine per- 
 formance on Broadway ; of going every evening to her 
 dressing-room and making up. Then she would come 
 out at eleven o'clock and see the carriages ranged about, 
 waiting for the people. It did not matter whether she 
 was the star or not. If she were only once in, getting a 
 decent salary, wearing the kind of clothes she liked, 
 having the money to do with, going here and there as 
 she pleased, how delightful it would all be. Her mind 
 ran over this picture all the day long. Hurstwood's 
 dreary state made its beauty become more and more 
 vivid. 
 
 Curiously this idea soon took hold of Hurstwood. 
 His vanishing sum suggested that he would need sus- 
 tenance. Why could not Carrie assist him a little until 
 he could get something? 
 
 He came in one day with something of this idea in his 
 mind. 
 
 " I met John B. Drake to-day," he said. " He's going 
 to open a hotel here in the fall. He says that he can 
 make a place for me then." 
 
 "Who is he?" asked Carrie. 
 
 " He's the man that runs the Grand Pacific in 
 Chicago." 
 
 " Oh," said Carrie. 
 
 " I'd get about fourteen hundred a year out erf 
 that."
 
 412 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 " That would be good, wouldn't it? " she said, sym 
 pathetically. 
 
 " If I can only get over this summer," be added, " I 
 think I'll be all right. I'm hearing from some of my 
 friends again." 
 
 Carrie swallowed this story in all its pristine beauty. 
 She sincerely wished he could get through the summer. 
 He looked so hopeless. 
 
 " How much money have you left? " 
 
 " Only fifty dollars." 
 
 "Oh, mercy," she exclaimed, "what will we do? 
 It's only twenty days until the rent will be due again." 
 
 _Hurstwood rested his head on his hands and looked 
 blankly at the floor. 
 
 " Maybe you could get something in the stage line? " 
 he blandly suggested. 
 
 " Maybe I could," said Carrie, glad that some one 
 approved of the idea. 
 
 " I'll lay my hand to whatever I can get," he said, 
 now that he saw her brighten up. " I can get some- 
 thing." 
 
 She cleaned up the things one morning after he had 
 gone, dressed as neatly as her wardrobe permitted, and 
 set out for Broadway. She did not know that thorough- 
 fare very well. To her it was a wonderful conglomera- 
 tion of everything great and mighty. The theatres were 
 there these agencies must be somewhere about. 
 
 She decided to stop in at the Madison Square Theatre 
 and ask how to find the theatrical agents. This seemed 
 the sensible way. Accordingly, when she reached that 
 theatre she applied to the clerk at the box office. 
 
 " Eh ? " he said, looking out. " Dramatic agents ? I 
 don't know. You'll find them in the ' Clipper,' though. 
 They all advertise in that." 
 
 " Is that a paper? " said Carrie.
 
 SISTER CARRIE 413 
 
 " Yes," said the clerk, marvelling at such ignorance 
 of a common fact. " You can get it at the news-stands," 
 he added politely, seeing how pretty the inquirer 
 was. 
 
 Carrie proceeded to get the " Clipper," and tried to 
 find the agents by looking over it as she stood beside the 
 stand. This could not be done so easily. Thirteenth 
 Street was a number of blocks off, but she went back, 
 carrying the precious paper and regretting the waste 
 of time. 
 
 Hurstwood was already there, sitting in his place. 
 
 " Where were you? " he asked. 
 
 " I've been trying to find some dramatic agents." 
 
 He felt a little diffident about asking concerning her 
 success. The paper she began to scan attracted his 
 attention. 
 
 " What have you got there ? " he asked. 
 
 " The ' Clipper.' The man said I'd find their ad- 
 dresses in here." 
 
 " Have you been all the way over to Broadway tcv 
 find that out? I could have told you." 
 
 "Why didn't you?" she asked, without looking up. 
 
 " You never asked me," he returned. 
 
 She went hunting aimlessly through the crowded 
 columns. Her mind was distracted by this man's in- 
 difference. The difficulty of the situation she was fac- 
 ing was only added to by all he did. Self-commisera- 
 tion brewed in her heart. Tears trembled along her 
 eyelids but did not fall. Hurstwood noticed something. 
 
 " Let me look." 
 
 To recover herself she went into the front room 
 while he searched. Presently she returned. He had 
 a pencil, and was writing upon an envelope 
 
 " Here 're three," he said. 
 
 Carrie took it and found that one was Mrs. Bermudez,
 
 414 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 another Marcus Jenks, a third Percy Weil. She paused 
 only a moment, and then moved toward the door. 
 
 " I might as well go right away," she said, without 
 looking back. 
 
 Hurstwood saw her depart with some faint stirrings 
 of shame, which were the expression of a manhood 
 rapidly becoming stultified. He sat a while, and then 
 it became too much. He got up and put on his hat. 
 
 " I guess I'll go out," he said to himself, and went, 
 strolling nowhere in particular, but feeling somehow 
 that he must go. 
 
 Carrie's first call was upon Mrs. Bermudez, whose 
 address was quite the nearest. It was an old-fashioned 
 residence turned into offices. Mrs. Bermudez's offices 
 consisted of what formerly had been a back chamber 
 and a hall bedroom, marked " Private." 
 
 As Carrie entered she noticed several persons loung- 
 ing about men, who said nothing and did nothing. 
 
 While she was waiting to be noticed, the door of the 
 hall bedroom opened and from it issued two very man- 
 nish-looking women, very tightly dressed, and wearing 
 white collars and cuffs. After them came a portly lady 
 of about forty-five, light-haired, sharp-eyed, and evi- 
 dently good-natured. At least she was smiling. 
 
 " Now, don't forget about that," said one of the man- 
 nish women. 
 
 " I won't," said the portly woman. " Let's see," she 
 added, " where are you the first week in February? " 
 
 " Pittsburg," said the woman. 
 
 " I'll write you there." 
 
 " All right," said the other, and the two passed 
 out. 
 
 Instantly the portly lady's face became exceedingly 
 sober and shrewd. She turned about and fixed on 
 Carrie a very searching eye.
 
 SISTER CARRIE 4. 5 
 
 " Well," she said, " young woman, what can I do foi 
 you ? " 
 
 " Are you Mrs. Bermudez ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Well," said Carrie, hesitating how to begin, " do 
 you get places for persons upon the stage? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Could you get me one ? " 
 
 " Have you ever had any experience? " 
 
 " A very little," said Came.""'" 
 
 " Whom did you play with? " 
 
 " Oh, with no one," said Carrie. " It was just a 
 show gotten " 
 
 " Oh, I see," said the woman, interrupting her. " No, 
 I don't know of anything now." 
 
 Carrie's countenance fell. 
 
 " You want to get some New York experience," con 
 eluded the affable Mrs. Bermudez. " We'll take youi 
 name, though." 
 
 Carrie stood looking while the lady retired to her 
 office. 
 
 "What is your address?" inquired a young lady 
 behind the counter, taking up the curtailed conver- 
 sation. 
 
 " Mrs. George Wheeler," said Carrie, moving over to- 
 where she was writing. The woman wrote her ad- 
 dress in full and then allowed her to depart at her 
 leisure. 
 
 She encountered averysimilar experience in the office 
 of Mr. Jenks, only he varied it by saying at the close : 
 " If you could play at some local house, or had a 
 programme with your name on it, I might do some- 
 thing." 
 
 In the third place the individual asked: 
 
 " What sort of work do you want to do?"
 
 410 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 " What do you mean ? " said Carrie. 
 
 " Well, do you want to get in a comedy or on the 
 Yaudeville stage or in the chorus? " 
 
 " Oh, I'd like to get a part in a play," said Carrie. 
 
 " Well," said the man, " it'll cost you something to 
 do that." 
 
 "How much? " said Carrie, who, ridiculous as it may 
 seem, had not thought of this before. 
 
 " Well, that's for you to say," he answered shrewdly. 
 
 Carrie looked at him curiously. She hardly knew 
 how to continue the inquiry. 
 
 " Could you get me a part if I paid? " 
 
 " If we didn't you'd get your money back." 
 
 " Oh," she said. 
 
 The agent saw he was dealing with an inexperienced 
 soul, and continued accordingly. 
 
 " You'd want to deposit fifty dollars, any way. No 
 agent would trouble about you for less than that." 
 
 Carrie saw a light. 
 
 " Thank you," she said. " I'll think about it." 
 
 She started to go, and then bethought herself. 
 
 " How soon would I get a place? " she asked. 
 
 " Well, that's hard to say," said the man. " You 
 might get one in a week, or it might be a month. You'd 
 get the first thing that we thought you could do." 
 
 " I see," said Carrie, and then, half-smiling to be 
 agreeable, she walked out. 
 
 The agent studied a moment, and then said to him- 
 self: 
 
 " It's funny how anxious these women are to get on 
 the stage." 
 
 Carrie found ample food for reflection in the fifty- 
 dollar proposition. " Maybe they'd take my money and 
 not give me anything," she thought. She had some jew- 
 elry a diamond ring and pin and several other pieces.
 
 SISTER CARRIE 417 
 
 She could get fifty dollars for those if she went to a 
 pawnbroker. 
 
 Hurstwood was home before her. He had not 
 thought she would be so long seeking. 
 
 " Well? " he said, not venturing to ask what news. 
 
 " I didn't find out anything to-day," said Carrie, tak- 
 ing off her gloves. " They all want money to get you 
 a place." 
 
 " How much ? " asked Hurstwood. 
 
 " Fifty dollars." 
 
 " They don't want anything, do they? " 
 
 " Oh, they're like everybody else. You can't tell 
 whether they'd ever get you anything after you did 
 pay them." 
 
 " Well, I wouldn't put up fifty on that basis," said 
 Hurstwood, as if he were deciding, money in hand. 
 
 " I don't know," said Carrie. " I think I'll try some 
 of the managers." 
 
 Hurstwood heard this, dead to the horror of it. He 
 rocked a little to and fro, and chewed at his finger. It 
 seemed all very natural in such extreme states. He 
 would do better later on.
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII 
 
 IN ELF LAND DISPORTING I THE GRIM WORLD WITHOUT 
 
 When Carrie renewed her search, as she did the next 
 day, going tcfthe Casino, she found that in the opera 
 chorus, as in other fields, employment is difficult to 
 secure. Girls who can stand in a line and look pretty 
 are as numerous as labourers who can swing a pick. 
 She found there was no discrimination between one and 
 the other of applicants, save as regards a conventional 
 standard of prettiness and form. Their own opinion 
 or knowledge of their ability went for nothing. 
 
 " Where shall I find Mr. Gray? " she asked of a sulky 
 doorman at the stage entrance of the Casino. 
 
 " You can't see him now ; he's busy." 
 
 " Do you know when I can see him? " 
 
 " Got an appointment with him ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Well, you'll have to call at his office." 
 
 " Oh, dear ! " exclaimed Carrie. " Where is his 
 office?" 
 
 He gave her the number. 
 
 She knew there was no need of calling there now. 
 He would not be in. Nothing remained but to employ 
 the intermediate hours in search. 
 
 The dismal story of ventures in other places is 
 quickly told. Mr. Daly saw no one save by appoint- 
 ment. Carrie waited an hour in a dingy office, quite in 
 spite of obstacles, to learn this fact of the placid, in- 
 different Mr. Dorney.
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 419 
 
 " You will have to write and ask him to see you." 
 
 So she went away. 
 
 At the Enjpjre Theatre she found a hive of peculiarly 
 listless and indifferent individuals. Everything or- 
 nately upholstered, everything- carefully finished, every- 
 thing remarkably reserved. 
 
 At the Lyceum she entered one of those secluded, 
 under-stairway closets, berugged and bepanneled, 
 which causes one to feel the greatness of all positions 
 of authority. Here was reserve itself done into a box- 
 office clerk, a doorman, and an assistant, glorying in 
 their fine positions. 
 
 " Ah, be very humble now very humble indeed. 
 Tell us what it is you require. Tell it quickly, ner- 
 vously, and without a vestige of self-respect. If no 
 trouble to us in any way, we may see what we can do." 
 
 This was the atmosphere of the Lyceum the atti- 
 tude, for that matter, of every majiageriaL office in the 
 city. These little proprietors of businesses are lords 
 indeed on their own ground. 
 
 Qaoi^c^inje.^awjayj^^lyjj^spmewhat more abashed 
 for her pains. 
 
 Hurstwood heard the details of the weary and un- 
 availing search that evening. 
 
 " I didn't get to see any one," said Carrie. " I just 
 walked, and walked, and waited around." 
 
 Hurstwood only looked at her. 
 
 " I suppose you have to have some friends before 
 you can get in," she added, disconsolately. 
 
 Hurstwood saw the difficulty of this thing, and yet 
 it did not seem so terrible. Carrie was tired and dis- 
 pirited, but now she could rest. Viewing the world 
 from his rocking-chair, its bitterness did not seem to 
 approach so rapidly. To-morrow was another day. 
 
 To-morrow came, and the next, and the next.
 
 420 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 Carrie saw the manager at the Casino once. 
 
 " Come around," he said, " the first of next week. I 
 may make some changes then." 
 
 He was a large and corpulent individual, surfeited 
 with good clothes and good eating, who judged women 
 as another would horseflesh. Carrie was pretty and 
 graceful. She might be put in even if she did not have 
 any experience. One of the proprietors had suggested 
 that the chorus was a little weak on looks. 
 
 The first of next week was some days off yet. The 
 first of the month was drawing near. Carrie began to 
 worry as she had never worried before. 
 
 " Do you really look for anything when you go out? " 
 she asked Hurstwood one morning as a climax to some 
 painful thoughts of her own. 
 
 " Of course I do," he said pettishly, troubling only a 
 little over the disgrace of the insinuation. 
 
 " I'd take anything," she said, " for the present. It 
 will soon be the first of the month again." 
 
 She looked the picture of despair. 
 
 Hurstwood quit reading his paper and changed his 
 clothes. 
 
 " He would look for something," he thought. " He 
 would go and see if some brewery couldn't get him in 
 somewhere. Yes, he would take a position as bar- 
 tender, if he could get it." 
 
 It was the same sort of pilgrimage he had made be- 
 fore. One or two slight rebuffs, and the bravado dis- 
 appeared. 
 
 " No use," he thought. " I might as well go on back 
 home." 
 
 Now that his money was so low, he began to observe 
 his clothes and feel that even his best ones were begin- 
 ning to look commonplace. This was a bitter thought 
 
 Carrie came in after he did.
 
 SISTER CARRIE 421 
 
 r< I went to see some of the variety managers," she 
 said, aimlessly. " You have to have an act. They 
 don't want anybody that hasn't." 
 
 " I saw some of the brewery people to-day," said 
 Hurstwood. " One man told me he'd try to make a 
 place for me in two or three weeks." 
 
 In the face of so much distress on Carrie's part, he 
 had to make some showing, and it was thus he did so. 
 It was. lassitude's apology to energy. 
 
 Monday Carrie went again to the Casino. 
 
 "Did I tell you to come around to-day?" said the 
 manager, looking her over as she stood before him. 
 
 " You said the first of the week," said Carrie, greatly 
 abashed. 
 
 " Ever had any experience ? " he asked again, almost 
 severely. 
 
 Carrie owned to ignorance. 
 
 He looked her over again as he stirred among some 
 papers. He was secretly pleased with this pretty, dis- 
 turbed-looking young woman. " Come around to the 
 theatre to-morrow morning." 
 
 Carrie's heart bounded to her throat. 
 
 " I will," she said with difficulty. She could see hft 
 wanted her, and turned to go. 
 
 " Would he really put her to work ? Oh, blessed for- 
 tune, could it be? " 
 
 Already the hard rumble of the city through the open 
 windows became pleasant. 
 
 A sharp voice answered her mental interrogation, 
 driving away all immediate fears on that score. 
 
 " Be sure you're there promptly," the manager said 
 roughly. " You'll be dropped if you're not." 
 
 Carrie hastened away. She did not quarrel now with 
 Hurstwood's idleness. She had a place she had a 
 place! This sang in her ears.
 
 422 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 In her delight she was almost anxious to tell Hurst^ 
 wood. But, as she walked homeward, and her survey 
 of the facts of the case became larger, she began tc 
 think of the anomaly of her finding work in several 
 weeks and his lounging in idleness for a number of 
 months. 
 
 " Why don't he get something? " she openly said to 
 herself. " If I can he surely ought to. It wasn't very 
 hard for me." 
 
 She forgot her youth and her beauty. The handicap 
 of age she did noi, in her enthusiasm, perceive. 
 
 Thus, ever, the voice of success. 
 
 Still, she could not keep her secret. She tried to be 
 calm and indifferent, but it was a palpable sham. 
 
 " Well? " he said, seeing her relieved face. 
 
 " I have a place." 
 
 " You have? " he said, breathing a better breath. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " What sort of a place is it? " he asked, feeling in his 
 veins as if now he might get something good also. 
 
 " In the chorus," she answered. 
 
 " Is it the Casino show you told me about? " 
 
 " Yes," she answered. " I begin rehearsing to- 
 morrow." 
 
 There was more explanation volunteered by Carrie., 
 because she was happy. At last Hurstwood said : 
 
 " Dp you know how much you'll get ? " 
 
 " No, I didn't want to ask," said Carrie. " I guess 
 they pay twelve or fourteen dollars a week." 
 
 " About that, I guess," said Hurstwood. 
 
 There was a good dinner in the flat that evening, 
 owing to the mere lifting of the terrible strain. Hurst- 
 wood went out for a shave, and returned with a fair- 
 sized sirloin steak. 
 
 " Now, to-morrow," he thought, " I'll look around
 
 SISTER CARRIE 423 
 
 myself," and with renewed hope he lifted his eyes from 
 the ground. 
 
 On the morrow Carrie reported promptly and was 
 given a place in the line. She saw a large, empty, 
 shadowy play-house, still redolent of the perfumes and 
 blazonry of the night, and notable for its rich, oriental 
 appearance. The wonder of it awed and delighted her. 
 Blessed be its wondrous reality. How hard she would 
 try to be worthy of it. It was above the common mass, 
 above idleness, above want, above insignificance. 
 People came to it in finery and carriages to see. It 
 was ever a centre of light and mirth. And here she 
 was of it. Oh, if she could only remain, how happy 
 would be her days ! 
 
 " What is your name ? " said the manager, who was 
 conducting the drill. 
 
 " Madenda," she replied, instantly mindful of the. 
 name Drouet had selected in Chicago. " Carrie 
 Madenda." 
 
 " Well, now, Miss Madenda," he said, very affably, 
 as Carrie thought, " you go over there." 
 
 Then he called to a young woman who was already 
 of the company : 
 
 " Miss Clark, you pair with Miss Madenda." 
 
 This young lady stepped forward, so that Carrie saw 
 where to go, and the rehearsal began. 
 
 Carrie soon found that while this drilling had some 
 slight resemblance to the rehearsals as conducted at 
 Avery Hall, the attitude of the manager was much more 
 pronounced. She had marvelled at the insistence and 
 superior airs of Mr. Millice, but the individual con- 
 ducting here had the same insistence, coupled with al- 
 most brutal roughness. As the drilling proceeded, he 
 seemed to wax exceedingly wroth over trifles, and to 
 increase his lung power in proportion. It was very
 
 424 SISTER CARRIF 
 
 evident that he had a great contempt for any assump- 
 tion of dignity or innocence on the part of these young 
 women. 
 
 " Clark," he would call meaning, of course, Miss 
 Clark " why don't you catch step there? " 
 
 " By fours, right ! Right, I said, right ! For heav- 
 en's sake, get on to yourself ! Right ! " and in saying 
 this he would lift the last sounds into a vehement roar. 
 
 " Maitland ! Maitland ! " he called once. 
 
 A nervous, comely-dressed little girl stepped out. 
 Carrie trembled for her out of the fulness of her own 
 sympathies and fear. 
 
 " Yes, sir," said Miss Maitland. 
 
 " Is there anything the matter with your ears? '* 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 " Do you know what ' column left ' means? " 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " Well, what are you stumbling around the right for? 
 Want to break up the line? " 
 
 '" I was just " 
 
 " Never mind what you were just. Keep your ears 
 open." 
 
 Carrie pitied, and trembled for her turn. 
 
 Yet another suffered the pain of personal rebuke. 
 
 " Hold on a minute," cried the manager, throwing 
 up his hands, as if in despair. His demeanour was 
 fierce. 
 
 " Elvers," he shouted, " what have you got in your 
 mouth? " 
 
 " Nothing," said Miss Elvers, while some smiled and 
 stood nervously by. 
 
 "Well, are you talking?" 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 " Well, keep your mouth still then. Now, all to 
 gether again,"
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 425 
 
 At last Carrie's turn came. It was because of her 
 extreme anxiety to do all that was required that 
 brought on the trouble. 
 
 She heard some one called. 
 
 " Mason," said the voice. " Miss Mason." 
 
 She looked around to see who it could be. A girl 
 behind shoved her a little, but she did not under- 
 stand. 
 
 " You, you ! " said the manager. " Can't you hear ? " 
 
 " Oh," said Carrie, collapsing, and blushing fiercely. 
 
 " Isn't your name Mason? " asked the manager. 
 
 " No, sir," said Carrie, " it's Madenda." 
 
 " Well, what's the matter with your feet ? Can't you 
 dance?" 
 
 " Yes, sir," said Carrie, who had long since learned 
 this art. 
 
 "Why don't you do it then? Don't go shuffling 
 along as if you were dead. I've got to have people 
 with life in them." 
 
 Carrie's cheek burned with a crimson heat. Her lips 
 trembled a little. 
 
 " Yes, sir," she said. 
 
 It was this constant urging, coupled with irascibility 
 and energy, for three long hours. Carrie came away 
 worn enough in body, but too excited in mind to notice 
 it. She meant to go home and practise her evolutions 
 as prescribed. She would not err in any way, if she 
 could help it. 
 
 When she reached the flat Hurstwood was not there. 
 For a wonder he was out looking for work, as she sup- 
 posed. She took only a mouthful to eat and then prac- 
 tised on, sustained by visions of freedom from financial 
 distress " The sound of glory ringing in her ears." 
 
 When Hurstwood returned he was not so elated as 
 when he went away, and now she was obliged to drop
 
 426 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 practice and get dinner. Here was an early irritation. 
 She would have her work and this. Was she going to 
 act and keep house? 
 
 " I'll not do it," she said, " after I get started. He 
 san take his meals out." 
 
 Each day thereafter brought its cares. She found it 
 was not such a wonderful thing to be in the chorus, and 
 she also learned that her salary would be twelve dollars 
 a week. After a few days she had her first sight of 
 those high and mighties the leading ladies and gentle- 
 men. She saw that they were privileged and deferred 
 to. She was nothing absolutely nothing at all. 
 
 At home was Hurstwood, daily giving her cause for 
 thought. He seemed to get nothing to do, and yet he 
 made bold to inquire how she was getting along. The 
 regularity with which he did this smacked of some one 
 who was waiting to live upon her labour. Now that 
 she had a visible means of support, this irritated her. 
 He seemed to be depending upon her little twelve 
 dollars. 
 
 "How are you getting along?" he would blandly 
 inquire. 
 
 " Oh, all right," she would reply. 
 
 " Find it easy? " 
 
 " It will be all right when I get used to it." 
 
 His paper would then engross his thoughts. 
 
 " I got some lard," he would add, as an afterthought. 
 " I thought maybe you might want to make some 
 biscuit." 
 
 The calm suggestion of the man astonished her a 
 little, especially in the light of recent developments. 
 Her dawning independence gave her more courage to 
 observe, and she felt as if she wanted to say things. 
 Still she could not talk to him as she had to Drouet. 
 There was something in the man's manner of which she
 
 SISTER CARRIE 427 
 
 had always stood in awe. He seemed to have some in- 
 visible strength in reserve. 
 
 One day, after her first week's rehearsal, what she 
 expected came openly to the surface. 
 
 '" We'll have to be rather saving," he said, laying 
 down some meat he had purchased. " You won't gel 
 any money for a week or so yet." 
 
 " No," said Carrie, who was stirring a pan at the 
 stove. 
 
 " I've only got the rent and thirteen dollars more," 
 he added. 
 
 " That's it," she said to herself. " I'm to use my 
 money now." 
 
 Instantly she remembered that she had hoped ip buy 
 a few things for herself. She needed clothes. Her hat 
 was not nice. 
 
 " What will twelve dollars do towards keeping up 
 this flat? " she thought. " I can't do it. Why doesn't 
 he get something to do? " 
 
 The important night of the first real performance 
 came. She did not suggest to Hurstwood that he come 
 and see. He did not think of going. It would only be 
 money wasted. She had such a small part. 
 
 The advertisements were already in the papers ; the 
 posters upon the bill-boards. The leading lady and 
 many members were cited. Carrie was nothing. 
 
 As in Chicago, she was seized with stage fright as 
 the very first entrance of the ballet approached, but 
 later she recovered. The apparent and painful insig- 
 nificance of the part took fear away from her. She 
 felt that she was so obscure it did not matter. For- 
 tunately, she did not have to wear tights. A group of 
 twelve were assigned pretty golden-hued skirts which 
 came only to a line about an inch above the knee. 
 Carrie happened to be one of the twelve.
 
 428 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 In standing about the stage, marching, and occasion- 
 ally lifting up her voice in the general chorus, she had 
 a chance to observe the audience and to see the in- 
 auguration of a great hit. There was plenty of ap- 
 plause, but she could not help noting how poorly soms 
 of the women of alleged ability did. 
 
 " I could do better than that," Carrie ventured to her- 
 self, in several instances. To do her justice, she was 
 right. 
 
 After it was over she dressed quickly, and as the 
 manager had scolded some others and passed her, she 
 imagined she must have proved satisfactory. She 
 wanted to get out quickly, because she knew but few, 
 and the stars were gossiping. Outside were carriages 
 and some correct youths in attractive clothing, waiting. 
 Carrie saw that she was scanned closely. The flutter 
 of an eyelash would have brought her a companion. 
 That she did not give. 
 
 One experienced youth volunteered, anyhow. 
 
 " Not going home alone, are you? " he said. 
 
 Carrie merely hastened her steps and took the Sixth 
 Avenue car. Her head was so full of the wonder of it 
 that she had time for nothing else. 
 
 "Did you hear any more from the brewery?" she 
 asked at the end of the week, hoping by the question 
 to stir him on to action. 
 
 " No," he answered, " they're not quite ready yet. I 
 think something will come of that, though." 
 
 She said nothing more then, objecting to giving up 
 her own money, and yet feeling that such would have to 
 be the case. Hurstwood felt the crisis, and artfully 
 decided to appeal to Carrie. He had long since realised 
 how good-natured she was, how much she would stand. 
 There was some little shame in him at the thought of 
 doing so, but he justified himself with the thought that
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 429 
 
 he really would get something. Rent day gave him his 
 opportunity. 
 
 " Well," he said, as he counted it out, " that's about 
 the last of my money. I'll have to get something pretty 
 soon." 
 
 Carrie looked at him askance, half-suspicious of an 
 appeal. 
 
 " If I could only hold out a little longer I think I 
 could get something. Drake is sure to open a hotel 
 here in September." 
 
 " Is he?" said Carrie, thinking of the short month 
 that still remained until that time. 
 
 "Would you mind helping me out until then?" he 
 aid appealingly. " I think I'll be all right after that 
 time." 
 
 " No," said Carrie, feeling sadly handicapped by fate. 
 
 " We can get along if we economise. I'll pay you 
 back all right." 
 
 " Oh, I'll help you," said Carrie, feeling quite hard- 
 hearted at thus forcing him to humbly appeal, and yet 
 her desire for the benefit of her earnings wrung a faint 
 protest from her. 
 
 " Why don't you take anything, George, tempo- 
 rarily?" she said. "What difference does it make? 
 Maybe, after a while, you'll get something better." 
 
 " I will take anything," he said, relieved, and wincing 
 under reproof. " I'd just as leave dig on the streets. 
 Nobody knows me here." 
 
 " Qh, you needn't do that," said Carrie, hurt by the 
 pity of it. " But there must be other things." 
 
 " I'll get something ! " he said, assuming deter, 
 mination. 
 
 Then he went back to his paper.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX 
 
 OF LIGHTS AND OF SHADOWS : THE PARTING OF WORLDS 
 
 What Hurstwood got as the result of this determina- 
 tion was more self-assurance that each particular day 
 was not the day. At the same time, Carrie passed 
 through thirty days of mental distress. 
 
 Her need of clothes to say nothing of her desire for 
 ornaments grew rapidly as the fact developed that 
 for all her work she was not to have them. The sym- 
 pathy she felt for Hurstwood, at the time he asked her 
 to tide him over, vanished with these newer urgings of 
 decency. He was not always renewing his request, but 
 this love of good appearance was. It insisted, and Car- 
 rie wished to satisfy it, wished more and more that 
 Hnrstwood was not in the way. 
 
 Hurstwood reasoned, when he neared the last ten 
 dollars, that he had better keep a little pocket change 
 and not become wholly dependent for car-fare, shaves, 
 and the like ; so when this sum was still in his hand he 
 announced himself as penniless. 
 
 " I'm clear out," he said to Carrie one afternoon. " I 
 paid for some coal this morning, and that took all but 
 ten or fifteen cents." 
 
 " I've got some money there in my purse." 
 
 Hurstwood went to get it, starting for a can of toma- 
 toes. Carrie scarcely noticed that this was the begin- 
 ning of the new order. He took out fifteen cents and 
 bought the can with it. Thereafter it was dribs and 
 drabs of this sort, until one morning Carrie suddenly
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 431 
 
 remembered that she would not be back until close to 
 dinner time. 
 
 " We're all out of flour," she said ; " you'd better get 
 some this afternoon. We haven't any meat, either. 
 How would it do if we had liver and bacon? " 
 
 " Suits me," said Hurstwood. 
 
 " Better get a half or three-quarters of a pound of 
 that." 
 
 " Half '11 be enough," volunteered Hurstwood. 
 
 She opened her purse and laid down a half dollar. 
 He pretended not to notice it. 
 
 Hurstwood bought the flour which all grocers sold 
 in 3^-pound packages for thirteen cents and paid 
 fifteen cents for a half-pound of liver and bacon. 
 He left the packages, together with the balance of 
 thirty-two cents, upon the kitchen table, where Carrie 
 found it. It did not escape her that the change was 
 accurate. There was something sad in realising that, 
 after all, all that he wanted of her was something to 
 eat. She felt as if hard thoughts were unjust. Maybe 
 he would get something yet. He had no vices. 
 
 That very evening, however, on going into the 
 theatre, one of the chorus girls passed her all newly 
 arrayed in a pretty mottled tweed suit, which took Car- 
 rie's eye. The young woman wore a fine bunch of 
 violets and seemed in high spirits. She smiled at Car- 
 rie good-naturedly as she passed, showing pretty, even 
 teeth, and Carrie smiled back. 
 
 " She can afford to dress well," thought Carrie, " and 
 so could I, if I could only keep my money. I haven't a 
 decent tie of any kind to wear." 
 
 She put out her foot and looked at her shoe reflec- 
 tively. 
 
 " I'll get a pair of shoes Saturday, anyhow; I don't 
 care what happens."
 
 432 
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 One of the sweetest and most sympathetic little 
 chorus girls in the company made friends with her be- 
 cause in Carrie she found nothing to frighten her away. 
 She was a gay little Manon, unwitting of society's fierce 
 conception of morality, but, nevertheless, good to her 
 neighbour and charitable. Little license was allowed 
 the chorus in the matter of conversation, but, never- 
 theless, some was indulged in. 
 
 " It's warm to-night, isn't it? " said this girl, arrayed 
 in pink fleshings and an imitation golden helmet. She 
 also carried a shining shield. 
 
 "Yes ; it is," said Carrie, pleased that some one should 
 talk to her. 
 
 " I'm almost roasting," said the girl. 
 
 Carrie looked into her pretty face, with its large blue 
 eyes, and saw little beads of moisture. 
 
 " There's more marching in this opera than ever I 
 did before," added the girl. 
 
 " Have you been in others? " asked Carrie, surprised 
 at her experience. 
 
 " Lots of them," said the girl ; " haven't you ? " 
 
 " This is my first experience." 
 
 " Oh, is it? I thought I saw you the time they ran 
 ' The Queen's Mate ' here." 
 
 " No," said Carrie, shaking her head ; " not me." 
 
 This conversation was interrupted by the blare of 
 the orchestra and the sputtering of the calcium lights 
 in the wings as the line was called to form for a new 
 entrance. No further opportunity for conversation 
 occurred, but the next evening, when they were getting 
 ready for the stage, this girl appeared anew at her 
 side. 
 
 " They say this show is going on the road next 
 month." 
 
 " Is it ? " said Carrie.
 
 SISTER CARRIE 433 
 
 "Yes; do you think you'll go?" 
 
 " I don't know ; I guess so, if they'll take me." 
 
 " Oh, they'll take you. I wouldn't go. They won't 
 give you any more, and it will cost you everything you 
 make to live. I never leave New York. There are too 
 many shows going on here." 
 
 " Can you always get in another show? " 
 
 " I always have. There's one going on up at the 
 Broadway this month. I'm going to try and get in 
 that if this one really goes." 
 
 Carrie heard this with aroused intelligence. Evi- 
 dently it wasn't so very difficult to get on. Maybe she 
 also could get a place if this show went away. 
 
 " Do they all pay about the same? " she asked. 
 
 "Yes. Sometimes you get a little more. This show 
 doesn't pay very much." 
 
 " I get twelve," said Carrie. 
 
 " Do you ? " said the girl. " They pay me fifteen, and 
 you do more work than I do. I wouldn't stand it if I 
 were you. They're just giving you less because they 
 think you don't know. You ought to be making fif- 
 teen." 
 
 " Well, I'm not," said Carrie. 
 
 " Well, you'll get more at the next place if you want 
 it," went on the girl, who admired Carrie very much. 
 " You do fine, and the manager knows it." 
 
 To say the truth, Carrie did unconsciously move 
 about with an air pleasing and somewhat distinctive. 
 It was due wholly to her natural manner and total lack 
 of self-consciousness. 
 
 " Do you suppose I could get more up at the 
 Broadway ? " 
 
 " Of course you can," answered the girl. " You come 
 with me when I go. I'll do the talking." 
 
 Carrie heard this, flushing with thankfulness. She
 
 434 
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 liked this little gaslight soldier. She seemed so ex- 
 perienced and self-reliant in her tinsel helmet and 
 military accoutrements. 
 
 " My future must be assured if I can always get work 
 this way/' thought Carrie. 
 
 Still, in the morning, when her household duties 
 would infringe upon her and Hurstwood sat there, a 
 perfect load to contemplate, her fate seemed dismal and 
 unrelieved. It did not take so very much to feed them 
 under Hurstwood's close-measured buying, and there 
 would possibly be enough for rent, but it left nothing 
 else. Carrie bought the shoes and some other things, 
 which complicated the rent problem very seriously. 
 Suddenly, a week from the fatal day, Carrie realised 
 that they were going to run short. 
 
 " I don't believe," she exclaimed, looking into her 
 purse at breakfast, " that I'll have enough to pay the 
 rent." 
 
 "How much have you?" inquired Hurstwood. 
 
 "Well, I've got twenty-two dollars, but there's every- 
 thing to be paid for this week yet, and if I use all I get 
 Saturday to pay this, there won't be any left for next 
 week. Do you think your hotel man will open his hotel 
 this month ? " 
 
 " I think so," returned Hurstwood. " He said he 
 would." 
 
 After a while, Hurstwood said: 
 
 " Don't worry about it. Maybe the grocer will wait. 
 He can do that. We've traded there long enough to 
 make him trust us for a week or two." 
 
 " Do you think he will ? " she asked. 
 
 " I think so/' 
 
 On this account, Hurstwood, this very day, looked 
 grocer Oeslogge clearly in the eye as he ordered a 
 pound of coffee, and said :
 
 SISTER CARRIE 435 
 
 " Do you mind carrying my account until the end of 
 every week ? " 
 
 " No, no, Mr. Wheeler," said Mr. Oeslogge. " Dat 
 iss all right." 
 
 Hurstwood, still tactful in distress, added nothing to 
 this. It seemed an easy thing. He looked out of the 
 door, and then gathered up his coffee when ready and 
 came away. The game of a desperate man had begun. 
 
 Rent was paid, and now came the grocer. Hurst- 
 wood managed by paying out of his own ten and col- 
 lecting from Carrie at the end of the week. Then he 
 delayed a day next time settling with the grocer, and 
 so soon had his ten back, with Oeslogge getting his pay 
 on this Thursday or Friday for last Saturday's bill. 
 
 This entanglement made Carrie anxious for a change 
 of some sort. Hurstwood did not seem to realise that 
 she had a right to anything. He schemed to make what 
 she earned cover all expenses, but seemed not to trouble 
 over adding anything himself. 
 
 " He talks about worrying," thought Carrie. " If 
 he worried enough he couldn't sit there and wait for me. 
 He'd get something to do. No man could go seven 
 months without finding something if he tried." 
 
 The sight of him always around in his untidy clothes 
 and gloomy appearance drove Carrie to seek relief in 
 other places. Twice a week there were matinees, and 
 then Hurstwood ate a cold snack, which he prepared 
 himself. Two other days there were rehearsals begin- 
 ning at ten in the morning and lasting usually until one. 
 Now, to this Carrie added a few visits to one or two 
 chorus girls, including the blue-eyed soldier of the 
 golden helmet. She did it because it was pleasant and 
 a relief from dulness of the home over which her 
 husband brooded. 
 
 The blue-eyed soldier's name was^Osborne Lola
 
 ^6 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 Osborne. Her room was in Nineteenth Street near 
 Fourth Avenue, a block now given up wholly to office 
 buildings. Here she had a comfortable back room, 
 looking over a collection of back yards in which grew 
 a number of shade trees pleasant to see. 
 
 " Isn't your home in New York? " she asked of Lola 
 one day. 
 
 " Yes ; but I can't get along with my people. They 
 always want me to do what they want. Do you live 
 here?" 
 
 " Yes," said Carrie. 
 
 " With your family? " 
 
 Carrie was ashamed to say that she was married. 
 She had talked so much about getting more salary and 
 confessed to so much anxiety about her future, that 
 now, when the direct question of fact was waiting, she 
 could not tell this girl. 
 
 " With some relatives," she answered. 
 
 Miss Osborne took it for granted that, like herself, 
 Carrie's time was her own. She invariably asked her 
 to stay, proposing little outings and other things of that 
 sort until Carrie began neglecting her dinner hours. 
 Hurstwood noticed it, but felt in no position to quarrel 
 with her. Several times she came so late as scarcely 
 to have an hour in which to patch up a meal and start 
 for the theatre. 
 
 "Do you rehearse in the afternoons?" Hurstwood 
 once asked, concealing almost completely the cynical 
 protest and regret which prompted it. 
 
 " No ; I was looking around for another place," said 
 Carrie. 
 
 As a matter of fact she was, but only in such a way 
 as furnished the least straw of an excuse. Miss Os- 
 borne and she had gone to the office of the manager 
 who was to produce the new opera at the Broadway
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 437 
 
 and returned straight to the former's room, where they 
 had been since three o'clock. 
 
 Carrie felt this question to be an infringement on her 
 liberty. She did not take into account how much lib- 
 erty she was securing. Only the latest step, the new- 
 est freedom, must not be questioned. 
 
 Hurstwood saw it all clearly enough. He was shrewd 
 after his kind, and yet there was enough decency in the 
 man to stop him from making any effectual protest. 
 In his almost inexplicable apathy he was content to 
 droop supinely while Carrie drifted out of his life, just 
 as he was willing supinely to see opportunity pass be- 
 yond his control. He could not help clinging and pro- 
 testing in a mild, irritating, and ineffectual way, how- 
 ever a way that simply widened the breach by slow 
 degrees. 
 
 A further enlargement of this chasm between them 
 came when the manager, looking between the wings 
 upon the brightly lighted stage where the chorus was 
 going through some of its glittering evolutions, said 
 to the master of the ballet : 
 
 " Who is that fourth girl there on the right the one 
 coming round at the end now?" 
 
 " Oh," said the ballet-master, " that's Miss Ma- 
 denda." 
 
 " She's good looking. Why don't you let her head 
 that line?" 
 
 " I will," said the man. 
 
 "Just do that. She'll look better there than the 
 woman you've got." 
 
 " All right. I will do that," said the master. 
 
 The next evening Carrie was called out, much as if 
 for an error. 
 
 " You lead your company to-night." said the master, 
 
 " Yes, sir." said Carrie.
 
 438 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 " Put snap into it," he added. " We must have snap." 
 
 " Yes, sir," replied Carrie. 
 
 Astonished at this change, she thought that the here- 
 tofore leader must be ill ; but when she saw her in the 
 line, with a distinct expression of something unfavour- 
 able in her eye, she began to think that perhaps it was 
 merit. 
 
 She had a chic way of tossing her head to one side, and 
 holding her arms as if for action not listlessly. In front 
 of the line this showed up even more effectually. 
 
 " That girl knows how to carry herself," said the 
 manager, another evening. He began to think that he 
 should like to talk with her. If he hadn't made it a 
 rule to have nothing to do with the members of the 
 chorus, he would have approached her most unbend- 
 ingly. 
 
 " Put that girl at the head of the white column," he 
 suggested to the man in charge of the ballet. 
 
 This white column consisted of ome twenty girls, 
 all in snow-white flannel trimmed with silver and blue. 
 Its leader was most stunningly arrayed in the same 
 colours, elaborated, however, with epaulets and a belt 
 of silver, with a short sword dangling at one side. Car- 
 rie was fitted for this costume, and a few days later 
 appeared, proud of her new laurels. She was especially 
 gratified to find that her salary was now eighteen in- 
 stead of twelve. 
 
 Hurstwood heard nothing about this. 
 
 " I'll not give him the rest of my money," said Carrie. 
 " I do enough. I am going to get me something to 
 wear." 
 
 As a matter of fact, during this second month she 
 had been buying- for herself as recklessly as she dared, 
 regardless of the consequences. There were impend- 
 ing more complications rent day, and more extension
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 439 
 
 of the credit system in the neighbourhood. Now, how- 
 ever, she proposed to do better by herself. 
 
 Her first move was to buy a shirt waist, and in study- 
 ing these she found how little her money would buy 
 how much, if she could only use all. She forgot 
 that if she were alone she would have to pay for a 
 room and board, and imagined that every cent of hei 
 eighteen could be spent for clothes and things that she 
 liked. 
 
 At last she picked upon something, which not only 
 used up all her surplus above twelve, but invaded that 
 sum. She knew she was going too far, but her feminine 
 love of finery prevailed. The next day Hurstwood 
 said: 
 
 " We owe the grocer five dollars and forty cents this 
 week." 
 
 " Do we? " said Carrie, frowning a little. 
 
 She looked in her purse to leave it. 
 
 " I've only got eight dollars and twenty cents alto- 
 gether." 
 
 " We owe the milkman sixty cents," added HursV 
 wood. 
 
 " Yes, and there's the coal man," said Carrie. 
 
 Hurstwood said nothing. He had seen the ne\t 
 things she was buying ; the way she was neglecting 
 household duties ; the readiness with which she was 
 slipping out afternoons and staying. He felt that some- 
 thing was going to happen. All at once she spoke : 
 
 " I don't know," she said ; " I can't do it all. I don'i 
 earn enough." 
 
 This was a direct challenge. Hurstwood had to tak4 
 it up. He tried to be calm. 
 
 " I don't want you to do it all," he said. " I onlj 
 want a little help until I can get something to do." 
 
 " Oh, yes," answered Carrie. " That's always the
 
 440 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 way. It takes more than I can earn to pay for things. 
 I don't see what I'm going to do." 
 
 " Well, I've tried to get something," he exclaimed. 
 " What do you want me to do? " 
 
 " You couldn't have tried so very hard," said Carrie. 
 " I got something." 
 
 " Well, I did," he said, angered almost to harsh 
 words. " You needn't throw up your success to me. 
 All I asked was a little help until I could get some- 
 thing. I'm not down yet. I'll come up all right." 
 
 He tried to speak steadily, but his voice trembled a 
 VittleT 
 
 "^Carrie's anger melted on the instant. She feit 
 ashamed. 
 
 " Well," she said, " here's the money," and emptied 
 it out on the table. " I haven't got quite enough to pay 
 it all. If they can wait until Saturday, though, I'll have 
 uome more." 
 
 " You keep it," said Hurstwood, sadly. " I only want 
 enough to pay the grocer." 
 
 She put it back, and proceeded to get dinner early 
 md in good time. Her little bravado made her feel as 
 if she ought to make amends. 
 
 In a little while their old thoughts returned to both. 
 
 " She's making more than she says," thought Hurst- 
 i.vood. " She says she's making twelve, but that wouldn't 
 buy all those things. I don't care. Let her keep her 
 money. I'll get something again one of these days. 
 Then she can go to the deuce." 
 
 He only said this in his anger, but it prefigured a pos- 
 sible course of action and attitude well enough. 
 
 " I don't care," thought Carrie. " He ought to be 
 told to get out and do something. It isn't right that I 
 should support him." 
 
 In these days Carrie was introduced to several youtns,
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 441 
 
 friends of Miss Osborne, who were of the kind most 
 aptly described as gay and festive. They called once 
 to get Miss Osborne for an afternoon drive. Carrie 
 was with her at the time. 
 
 " Come and go along," said Lola. 
 
 " No, I can't," said Carrie. 
 
 " Oh, yes, come and go. What have you got to 
 do?" 
 
 " I have to be home by five," said Carrie. 
 
 "What for?" 
 
 " Oh, dinner." 
 
 " They'll take us to dinner," said Lola. 
 
 " Oh, no," said Carrie. " I won't go. I can't." 
 
 " Oh, do come. They're awful nice boys. We'll 
 get you back in time. We're only going for a drive in 
 Central Park." 
 
 Carrie thought a while, and at last yielded. 
 
 " Now, I must be back by half-past four," she said. 
 
 The information went in one ear of Lola and out the 
 other. 
 
 After Drouet and Hurstwood, there was the least 
 touch of cynicism in her attitude toward young men 
 especially of the gay and frivolous sort. She felt a little 
 older than they. Some of their pretty compliments 
 seemed silly. Still, she was young in heart and body 
 and youth appealed to her. 
 
 " Oh, we'll be right back, Miss Madenda," said one 
 of the chaps, bowing. " You wouldn't think we'd keep 
 you over time, now, would you? " 
 
 " Well, I don't know," said Carrie, smiling. 
 
 They were off for a drive she, looking about and 
 noticing fine clothing, the young men voicing those 
 silly pleasantries and weak quips which pass for hu- 
 mour in coy circles. Carrie saw the great park parade 
 ol carriages, beginning at the Fifty-ninth Street en-
 
 442 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 trance and winding past the Museum of Art to the exit 
 at One Hundred and Tenth Street and Seventh Avenue. 
 Her eye was once more taken by the show of wealth 
 the elaborate costumes, elegant harnesses, spirited 
 horses, and, above all, the beauty. Once more the 
 plague of poverty galled her, but now she forgot in a 
 measure her own troubles so far as to forget Hurst- 
 wood. He waited until four, five, and even six. It was 
 getting dark when he got up out of his chair. 
 
 " I guess she isn't coming home," he said, grimly. 
 
 " That's the way," he thought. " She's getting a 
 start now. I'm out of it." 
 
 Carrie had really discovered her neglect, but only at 
 a quarter after five, and the open carriage was now far 
 up Seventh Avenue, near the Harlem River. 
 
 " What time is it? " she inquired. " I must be get- 
 ting back." 
 
 " A quarter after five," said her companion, consult- 
 ing an elegant, open-faced watch. 
 
 " Oh, dear me ! " exclaimed Carrie. Then she settled 
 back with a sigh. " There's no use crying over spilt 
 milk," she said. " It's too late." 
 
 " Of course it is," said the youth, who saw visions of 
 a fine dinner now, and such invigorating talk as would 
 result in a reunion after the show. He was greatly 
 taken with Carrie. " We'll drive down to Delmonico's 
 now and have something there, won't we, Orrin? " 
 
 "To be sure," replied Orrin, gaily. 
 
 Carrie thought of Hurstwood. Never before had she 
 neglected dinner without an excuse. 
 
 They drove back, and at 6.15 sat down to dine. It 
 was the Sherry incident over again, the remembrance of 
 which came painfully back to Carrie. She remembered 
 Mrs. Vance, who had never called again after Hurst- 
 wood's reception, and Ames.
 
 SISTER .CARRIE 443 
 
 At this figure her mind halted. It was a strong, 
 clean vision. He liked better books than she read, bet- 
 ter people than she associated with. His ideals burned 
 in her heart. 
 
 " It's fine to be a good actress," came distinctly back, 
 
 What sort of an actress was she? 
 
 " What are you thinking about, Miss Madenda? " in- 
 quired her merry companion. " Come, now, let's see 
 if I can guess." 
 
 " Oh, no," said Carrie. " Don't try." 
 
 She shook it off and ate. She forgot, in part, and was 
 merry. When it came to the after-theatre proposition, 
 however, she shook her head. 
 
 " No," she said, " I can't. I have a previous en 
 gagement." 
 
 " Oh, now, Miss Madenda," pleaded the youth. 
 
 " No," said Carrie, " I can't. You've been so kind, 
 but you'll have to excuse me." 
 
 The youth looked exceedingly crestfallen. 
 
 " Cheer up, old man," whispered his companion 
 " We'll go around, anyhow. She may change her 
 mind."
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 . 
 
 A PUBLIC DISSENSION: A FINAL APPEAL 
 
 There was no after-theatre lark, however, so far as 
 Carrie was concerned. She made her way homeward, 
 thinking about her absence. Hurstwood was asleep, 
 but roused up to look as she passed through to her own 
 bed. 
 
 " Is that you ? " he said. 
 
 " Yes," she answered. 
 
 The next morning at breakfast she felt like apologising. 
 
 " I couldn't get home last evening," she said. 
 
 " Ah, Carrie," he answered, " what's the use saying 
 that? I don't care. You needn't tell me that, though." 
 
 " I couldn't," said Carrie, her colour rising. Then, 
 seeing that he looked as if he said " I know," she ex- 
 claimed: " Oh, all right I don't care." 
 
 From now on, her indifference to the flat was even 
 greater. There seemed no common ground on which 
 they could talk to one another. She let herself be asked 
 for expenses. It became so with him that he hated to 
 do it. He preferred standing off the butcher and baker. 
 He ran up a grocery bill of sixteen dollars with Oes- 
 logge, laying in a supply of staple articles, so that they 
 would not have to buy any of those things for some 
 time to come. Then he changed his grocery. It was 
 the same with the butcher and several others. Carrie 
 never heard anything of this directly from him. He 
 asked for such as he could expect, drifting farther and
 
 SISTER CARRIE 445 
 
 farther into a situation which could have but one 
 ending. 
 
 In this fashion, September went by. 
 
 " Isn't Mr. Drake going to open his hotel ? " Carrie 
 asked several times. 
 
 " Yes. He won't do it before October, though, now." 
 
 Carrie became disgusted. " Such a man," she said 
 to herself frequently. More and more she visited. She 
 put most of her spare money in clothes, which, after all, 
 was not an astonishing amount. At last the opera she 
 was with announced its departure within four weeks. 
 " Last two weeks of the Great Comic Opera success 
 
 The ," etc., was upon all billboards and in the 
 
 newspapers, before she acted. 
 
 " I'm not going out on the road," said Miss Osborne. 
 
 Carrie went with her to apply to another manager. 
 
 " Ever had any experience ? " was one of his ques- 
 tions. 
 
 " I'm with the company at the Casino now." 
 
 " Oh, you are? " he said. 
 
 The end of this was another engagement at twenty 
 per week. 
 
 Carrie was delighted. She began to feel that she 
 had a place in the world. People recognised ability. 
 
 So changed was her state that the home atmosphere 
 became intolerable. It was all poverty and trouble 
 there, or seemed to be, because it was a load to bear. 
 It became a place to keep away from. Still she slept 
 there, and did a fair amount of work, keeping it in order. 
 It was a sitting place for Hurstwood. He sat and 
 rocked, rocked and read, enveloped in the gloom of his 
 own fate. October went by, and November. It was 
 the dead of winter almost before he knew it, and there 
 he sat. 
 
 Carrie was doing better, that he knew. Her clothes
 
 446 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 were improved now, even fine. He saw her coming 
 and going, sometimes picturing to himself her rise. 
 Little eating had thinned him somewhat. He had no 
 appetite. His clothes, too, were a poor man's clothes. 
 Talk about getting something had become even too 
 threadbare and ridiculous for him. So he folded his 
 hands and waited for what, he could not anticipate. 
 
 At last, however, troubles became too thick. The 
 hounding of creditors, the indifference of Carrie, the 
 silence of the flat, and presence of winter, all joined to 
 produce a climax. It was effected by the arrival of 
 Oeslogge, personally, when Carrie was there. 
 
 " I call about my bill," said Mr. Oeslogge. 
 
 Carrie was only faintly surprised. 
 
 " How much is it? " she asked. 
 
 " Sixteen dollars," he replied. 
 
 "Oh, that much?" said Carrie. "Is this right ?" 
 she asked, turning to Hurstwood. 
 
 " Yes," he said. 
 
 " Well, I never heard anything about it." 
 
 She looked as if she thought he had been contracting 
 some needless expense. 
 
 " Well, we had it all right," he answered. Then he 
 went to the door. " I can't pay you anything on that 
 to-day," he said, mildly. 
 
 " Well, when can you? " said the grocer. 
 
 " Not before Saturday, anyhow," said Hurstwood. 
 
 " Huh ! " returned the grocer. " This is fine. I must 
 have that. I need the money." 
 
 Carrie was standing farther back in the room, hearing 
 it all. She was greatly distressed. It was so bad and 
 commonplace. Hurstwood was annoyed also. 
 
 " Well," he said, " there's no use talking about it now. 
 If you'll come in Saturday, I'll pay you something on
 
 SISTER CARRIE 447 
 
 The grocery man went away. 
 
 " How are we going to pay it ? " asked Carrie, aston- 
 ished by the bill. " I can't do it." 
 
 " Well, you don't have to," he said. " He can't get 
 what he can't get. He'll have to wait." 
 
 " I don't see how we ran up such a bill as that," said 
 Carrie. 
 
 " Well, we ate it," said Hurstwood. 
 
 " It's funny," she replied, still doubting. 
 
 " What's the use of your standing there and talking 
 like that, now? " he asked. " Do you think I've had it 
 alone ? You talk as if I'd taken something." 
 
 " Well, it's too much, anyhow," said Carrie. " I 
 oughtn't to be made to pay for it. I've got more than 
 I can pay for now." 
 
 " All right," replied Hurstwood, sitting down in si- 
 lence. He was sick of the grind of this thing. 
 
 Carrie went out, and there he sat, determining to do 
 something. 
 
 There had been appearing in the papers about this 
 time rumours and notices of an approaching strike on 
 the trolley lines in Brooklyn. There was general dis- 
 satisfaction as to the hours of labour required and the 
 wages paid. As usual and for some inexplicable rea- 
 son the men chose the winter for the forcing of the 
 hand of their employers and the settlement of their 
 difficulties. 
 
 Hurstwood had been reading of this thing, and won- 
 dering concerning the huge tie-up which would follow. 
 A day or two before this trouble with Carrie, it came. 
 On a cold afternoon, when everything was grey and it 
 threatened to snow, the papers announced that the men 
 had been called out on all the lines. 
 
 Being- so utterly idle, and his mind filled with the 
 numerous predictions which had been made concern-
 
 448 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 ing the scarcity of labour this winter and the panicky 
 state of the financial market, Hurstwood read this with 
 interest. He noted the claims of the striking motor- 
 men and conductors, who said that they had been wont 
 to receive two dollars a day in times past, but that for a 
 year or more " trippers " had been introduced, which 
 cut down their chance of livelihood one-half, and in- 
 creased their hours of servitude from ten to twelve, 
 and even fourteen. These " trippers " were men put 
 on during the busy and rush hours, to take a car out 
 for one trip. The compensation paid for such a trip 
 was only twenty-five cents. When the rush or busy 
 hours were over, they were laid off. Worst of all, no 
 man might know when he was going to get a car. He 
 must come to the barns in the morning and wait around 
 in fair and foul weather until such time as he was 
 needed. Two trips were an average reward for so 
 much waiting a little over three hours' work for fifty 
 cents. The work of waiting was not counted. 
 
 The men complained that this system was extending, 
 and that the time was not far off when but a few out of 
 7,000 employees would have regular two-dollar-a-day 
 work at all. They demanded that the system be abol- 
 ished, and that ten hours be considered a day's work, 
 barring unavoidable delays, with $2.25 pay. They de- 
 manded immediate acceptance of these terms, which 
 the various trolley companies refused. 
 
 Hurstwood at first sympathised with the demands of 
 these men indeed, it is a question whether he did not 
 always sympathise with them to the end, belie him as 
 his actions might. Reading nearly all the news, he 
 was attracted first by the scare-heads with which the 
 trouble was noted in the " World." He read it fully 
 the names of the seven companies involved, the number 
 of men.
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 449 
 
 " They're foolish to strike in this sort of weather," he 
 thought to himself. " Let 'em win if they can, though." 
 
 The next day there was even a larger notice of it. 
 " Brooklynites Walk," said the " World." " Knights 
 of Labour Tie up the Trolley Lines Across the 
 Bridge." " About Seven Thousand Men Out." 
 
 Hurstwood read this, formulating to himself his own 
 idea of what would be the outcome. He was a great 
 believer in the strength of corporations. 
 
 " They can't win," he said, concerning the men. 
 " They haven't any money. The police will protect the 
 companies. They've got to. The public has to have 
 its' cars." 
 
 He didn't sympathise with the corporations, but 
 strength was with them. So was property and public 
 utility. 
 
 " Those fellows can't win," he thought. 
 
 Among other things, he noticed a circular issued by 
 one of the companies, which read : 
 mT*lP^S 1^-' ;.:; (. :' }&**tti! "!!',; ji rmi,;fj " 
 " ATLANTIC AVENUE RAILROAD. 
 
 "SPECIAL NOTICE. 
 
 " The motormen and conductors and other employees of thi$ 
 company having abruptly left its service, an opportunity is now 
 given to all loyal men who have struck against their will to be 
 reinstated, providing they will make their applications by twelve 
 o'clock noon on Wednesday, January i6th. Such illen will be 
 given employment (with guaranteed protection) in the order in 
 which such applications are received, and runs and positions 
 assigned them accordingly. Otherwise, they will be considered 
 discharged, and every vacancy will be filled by a new man as 
 won as his services can be secured. 
 (Signed) 
 " BENJAMIN NORTON, 
 
 " President." 
 
 20
 
 450 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 He also noted among the want ads. one which read : 
 | 
 
 " WANTED. 50 skilled motormen, accustomed to Westing- 
 house system, to run U. S. mail cars only, in the City of Brook- 
 lyn ; protection guaranteed." 
 
 He noted particularly in each the " protection guar- 
 anteed." It signified to him the unassailable power of 
 the companies. 
 
 " They've got the militia on their side," he thought. 
 " There isn't anything those men can do." 
 
 While this was still in his mind, the incident with 
 Oeslogge and Carrie occurred. There had been a good 
 deal to irritate him, but this seemed much the worst. 
 Never before had she accused him of stealing or very 
 near that. She doubted the naturalness of so large a 
 bill. And he had worked so hard to make expenses 
 seem light. He had been " doing " butcher and baker 
 in order not to call on her. He had eaten very little 
 almost nothing. 
 
 " Damn it all ! " he said. " I can get something. I'm 
 not down yet." 
 
 He thought that he really must do something now. 
 It was too cheap to sit around after such an insinuation 
 as this. Why, after a little, he would be standing any- 
 thing. 
 
 He got up and looked out the window into the chilly 
 street. It came gradually into his mind, as he stood 
 there, to go to Brooklyn. 
 
 " Why not ? " his mind said. " Any one can get work 
 over there. You'll get two a day." 
 
 " How about accidents ? " said a voice. " You might 
 get hurt." 
 
 " Oh, there won't be much of that," he answered. 
 ." They've called out the police. Any one who wants 
 to run a car will be protected all right."
 
 SISTER CARRIE 451 
 
 " You don't know how to run a car," rejoined the 
 voice. 
 
 " I won't apply as a motorman," he answered. " I 
 can ring up fares all right." 
 
 " They'll want motormen mostly." 
 
 " They'll take anybody ; that I know." 
 
 For several hours he argued pro and con with this 
 mental counsellor, feeling no need to act at once in a 
 matter so sure of profit. 
 
 In the morning he put on his best clothes, which were 
 poor enough, and began stirring about, putting some 
 bread and meat into a page of a newspaper. Carrie 
 watched him, interested in this new move. 
 
 " Where are you going? " she asked. 
 
 " Over to Brooklyn," he answered. Then, seeing her 
 still inquisitive, he added : " I think I can get on over 
 there." 
 
 " On the trolley lines? " said Carrie, astonished. 
 
 " Yes," he rejoined. 
 
 " Aren't you afraid ? " she asked. 
 
 " What of? " he answered. " The police are protect- 
 ing them." 
 
 " The paper said four men were hurt yesterday." 
 
 " Yes," he returned ; " but you can't go by what the 
 papers say. They'll run the cars all right." 
 
 He looked rather determined now, in a desolate sort 
 of way, and Carrie felt very sorry. Something of the 
 old Hurstwood was here the least shadow of whatwas 
 once shrewd and pleasant strength. Outside, it was 
 cloudy and blowing a few flakes of snpw. 
 
 " What a day to go over there," thought Carrie. 
 
 Now he left before she did, which was a remarkable 
 thing, and tramped eastward to Fourteenth Street and 
 Sixth Avenue, where he took the car. He had read 
 that scores of applicants were applying at the office of
 
 452 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 the Brooklyn City Railroad building and were being 
 received. He made his way there by horse-car and 
 ferry a dark, silent man to the offices in question, 
 It was a long way, for no cars were running, and the 
 day was cold; but he trudged along grimly. Once in 
 Brooklyn, he could clearly see and feel that a strike 
 was on. People showed it in their manner. Along 
 the routes of certain tracks not a car was running. 
 About certain corners and nearby saloons small groups 
 of men were lounging. Several spring wagons passed 
 him, equipped with plain wooden chairs, and labelled 
 " Flatbush " or " Prospect Park. Fare, Ten Cents." 
 He noticed cold and even gloomy faces. Labour was 
 having its little war. 
 
 When he came near the office in question, he saw a 
 few men standing about, and some policemen. On the 
 far corners were other men whom he took to be strik- 
 ers watching. All the houses were small and wooden, 
 the streets poorly paved. After New York, Brooklyn 
 looked actually poor and hard-up. 
 
 He made his way into the heart of the small group, 
 eyed by policemen and the men already there. One of 
 the officers addressed him. 
 
 " What are you looking for? " 
 
 " I want to see if I can get a place." 
 
 " The offices are up those steps," said the bluecoat. 
 His face was a very neutral thing to contemplate. In 
 his heart of hearts, he sympathised with the strikers 
 and hated this " scab." In his heart of hearts, also, he 
 felt the dignity and use of the police force, which com- 
 manded order. Of its true social significance, he 
 never once dreamed. His was not the mind for that. 
 The two feelings blended in him neutralised one an- 
 other and him. He would have fought for this man 
 as determinedly as for himself, and yet only so far as
 
 SISTER CARRIE 453 
 
 commanded. Strip him of his uniform, and he would 
 have soon picked his side. 
 
 Hurstwood ascended a dusty flight of steps and en- 
 tered a small, dust-coloured office, in which were a rail- 
 ing, a long desk, and several clerks. 
 
 " Well, sir ? " said a middle-aged man, looking up at 
 him from the long desk. 
 
 " Do you want to hire any men ? " inquired Hurst- 
 wood. 
 
 " What are you a motorman? " 
 
 " No ; I'm not anytruhg," said Hurstwood. 
 
 He was not at all abashed by his position. He knew 
 these people needed men. If one didn't take him, an- 
 other would. This man could take him or leave him, 
 just as he chose. 
 
 " Well, we prefer experienced men, of course," said 
 the man. He paused, while Hurstwood smiled indif- 
 ferently. Then he added : " Still, I guess you can learn. 
 What is your name? " 
 
 " Wheeler," said Hurstwood. 
 
 The man wrote an order on a small card. " Take that 
 to our barns," he said, " and give it to the foreman. 
 He'll show you what to do/* 
 
 Hurstwood went down and out. He walked straight 
 away in the direction indicated, while the policemen 
 looked after. 
 
 " There's another wants to try it," said Officer Kiely 
 to Officer Macey. 
 
 " I have my mind he'll get his fill," returned the lat- 
 ter, quietly. 
 
 They had been in strikes before.
 
 CHAPTER XLI 
 
 THE STRIKE 
 
 The barn at which Hurstwood applied was exceed- 
 ingly short-handed, and was being operated practically 
 by three men as directors. There were a lot of green 
 hands around queer, hungry-looking men, who looked 
 as if want had driven them to desperate means. They 
 tried to be lively and willing, but there was an air of 
 hang-dog diffidence about the place. 
 
 Hurstwood went back through the barns and out 
 into a large, enclosed lot, where were a series of tracks 
 and loops. A half-dozen cars were there, manned by 
 instructors, each with a pupil at the lever. More pupils 
 were waiting at one of the rear doors of the barn. 
 
 In silence Hurstwood viewed this scene, and waited. 
 His companions took his eye for a while, though they 
 did not interest him much more than the cars. They 
 were an uncomfortable-looking gang, however. One 
 or two were very thin and lean. Several were quit 
 stout. Several others were rawboned and sallow, as 
 if they had been beaten upon by all sorts of rough 
 weather. 
 
 " Did you see by the paper they are going to call oufl 
 the militia?" Hurstwood heard one of them remark. 
 
 " Oh, they'll do that," returned the other. " They al- 
 ways do." 
 
 "Think we're liable to have much trouble?" saifl 
 another, whom Hurstwood did not see.
 
 SISTER CARRIE 455 
 
 " Not very." 
 
 " That Scotchman that went out on the last car," put 
 in a voice, " told me that they hit him in the ear with 
 a cinder." 
 
 A small, nervous laugh accompanied this. 
 
 " One of those fellows on the Fifth Avenue line must 
 have had a hell of a time, according to the papers," 
 drawled another. " They broke his car windows and 
 pulled him off into the street 'fore the police could stop 
 'em." 
 
 " Yes ; but there are more police around to-day," was 
 added by another. 
 
 Hurstwood hearkened without much mental com- 
 ment. These talkers seemed scared to him. Their 
 gabbling was feverish things said to quiet their own 
 minds. He looked out into the yard and waited. 
 
 Two of the men got around quite near him, but be- 
 hind his back. They were rather social, and he listened 
 to what they said. 
 
 " Are you a railroad man? " said one. 
 
 " Me? No. I've always worked in a paper factory." 
 
 " I had a job in Newark until last October," returned 
 the other, with reciprocal feeling. 
 
 There were some words which passed too low to 
 hear. Then the conversation became strong again. 
 
 " I don't blame these fellers for striking," said one. 
 " They've got the right of it, all right, but I had to get 
 something to do." 
 
 " Same here," said the other. " If I had any job in 
 Newark I wouldn't be over here takin' chances like 
 these." 
 
 " It's hell these days, ain't it?" said the man. "A 
 poor man ain't nowhere. You could starve, by God, 
 right in the streets, and there ain't most no one would 
 help you."
 
 456 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 " Right you are," said the other. " The job I had 
 I lost 'cause they shut down. They run all summer 
 and lay up a big stock, and then shut down." 
 
 Hurstwood paid some little attention to this. Some- 
 how, he felt a little superior to these two a little bet- 
 ter off. To him these were ignorant and commonplace, 
 poor sheep in a driver's hand. 
 
 " Poor devils," he thought, speaking out of the 
 thoughts and feelings of a bygone period of success. 
 
 " Next," said one of the instructors. 
 
 " You're next," said a neighbour, touching him. 
 
 He went out and climbed on the platform. The in- 
 structor took it for granted that no preliminaries were 
 needed. 
 
 " You see this handle," he said, reaching up to an 
 electric cut-off, which was fastened to the roof. " This 
 throws the current off or on. If you want to reverse 
 the car you turn it over here. If you want to send it 
 forward, you put it over here. If you want to cut off 
 the power, you keep it in the middle." 
 
 Hurstwood smiled at the simple information. 
 
 " Now, this handle here regulates your speed. To 
 here," he said, pointing with his finger, "gives you about 
 four miles an hour. This is eight. When it's full on, 
 you make about fourteen miles an hour." 
 
 Hurstwood watched him calmly. He had seen 
 motormen work before. He knew just about how they 
 did it, and was sure he could do as well, with a very 
 little practice. 
 
 The instructor explained a few more details, and then 
 said: 
 
 " Now, we'll back her up." 
 
 Hurstwood stood placidly by, while the car rolled 
 Dack into the yard. 
 
 " One thing you want to be careful about, and that is
 
 SISTER CARRIE 457 
 
 to start easy. Give one degree time to act before you 
 start another. The one fault of most men is that they 
 always want to throw her wide open. That's bad. It's 
 dangerous, too. Wears out the motor. You don't 
 want to do that." 
 
 " I see," said Hurstwood. 
 
 He waited and waited, while the man talked on. 
 
 " Now you take it," he said, finally. 
 
 The ex-manager laid hand to the lever and pushed 
 it gently, as he thought. It worked much easier than 
 he imagined, however, with the result that the car 
 jerked quickly forward, throwing him back against the 
 door. He straightened up sheepishly, while the instruc- 
 tor stopped the car with the brake. 
 
 " You want to be careful about that," was all he 
 said. 
 
 Hurstwood found, however, that handling a brake 
 and regulating speed were not so instantly mastered 
 as he had imagined. Once or twice he would have 
 ploughed through the rear fence if it had not been for 
 the hand and word of his companion. The latter was 
 rather patient with him, but he never smiled. 
 
 " You've got to get the knack of working both arms 
 at once," he said. " It takes a little practice." 
 
 One o'clock came while he was still on the car prac' 
 tising, and he began to feel hungry. The day set in 
 snowing, and he was cold. He grew weary of running 
 to and fro on the short track. 
 
 They ran the car to the end and both got off. Hurst- 
 wood went into the barn and sought a car step, pulling 
 out his paper-wrapped lunch from his pocket. There 
 was no water and the bread was dry, but he enjoyed it. 
 There was no ceremony about dining. He swallowed 
 and looked about, contemplating the dull, homely 
 labour of the thing. It was disagreeable miserably
 
 458 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 disagreeable in all its phases. Not because it was 
 bitter, but because it was hard. It would be hard to 
 any one, he thought. 
 
 After eating, he stood about as before, waiting until 
 his turn came. 
 
 The intention was to give him an afternoon of prac- 
 tice, but the greater part of the time was spent in wait- 
 ing about. 
 
 At last evening came, and with it hunger and a debate 
 with himself as to how he should spend the night. It 
 was half-past five. He must soon eat. If he tried |p 
 go home, it would take him two hours and a half of cold 
 walking and riding. Besides, he had orders to report 
 at seven the next morning, and going home would ne- 
 cessitate his rising at an unholy and disagreeable hour. 
 He had only something like a dollar and fifteen cents 
 of Carrie's money, with which he had intended to pay 
 the two weeks' coal bill before the present idea struck 
 him. 
 
 " They must have some place around here," he 
 thought. " Where does that fellow from Newark 
 stay ? " 
 
 Finally he decided to ask. There was a young fel- 
 low standing near one of the doors in the cold, waiting 
 a last turn. He was a mere boy in years twenty-one 
 about but with a body lank and long, because of priva- 
 tion. A little good living would have made this youth 
 plump and swaggering. 
 
 " How do they arrange this, if a man hasn't any 
 money?" inquired Hurstwood, discreetly. 
 
 The fellow turned a keen, watchful face on the in- 
 quirer. 
 
 " You mean eat? " he replied. 
 
 " Yes, and sleep. I can't go back to New York to- 
 night."
 
 SISTER CARRIE 45g 
 
 " The foreman '11 fix that if you ask him, I guess. He 
 did me." 
 
 "That so?" 
 
 " Yes. I just told him I didn't have anything. Gee, 
 I couldn't go home. I live way over in Hoboken." 
 
 Hurstwood only cleared his throat by way of ac- 
 knowledgment. 
 
 " They've got a place upstairs here, I understand. I 
 don't know what sort of a thing it is. Purty tough, I 
 guess. He gave me a meal ticket this noon. I know 
 that wasn't much."" 
 
 Hurstwood smiled grimly, and the boy laughed. 
 
 " It ain't no fun, is it?" he inquired, wishing vainly 
 for a cheery reply. 
 
 " Not much," answered Hurstwood. 
 
 " I'd tackle him now," volunteered the youth. " He 
 may go 'way." 
 
 Hurstwood did so. 
 
 " Isn't there some place I can stay around here to- 
 night ? " he inquired. " If I have to go back to New 
 York, I'm afraid I won't " 
 
 " There're some cots upstairs," interrupted the man, 
 " if you want one of them." 
 
 " That'll do," he assented. 
 
 He meant to ask for a meal ticket, but the seemingly 
 proper moment never came, and he decided to pay 
 himself that night. 
 
 " I'll ask him in the morning." 
 
 He ate in a cheap restaurant in the vicinity, and, 
 being cold and lonely, went straight off to seek the loft 
 in question. The company was not attempting to run 
 cars after nightfall. It was so advised by the police. 
 
 The room seemed to have been a lounging place for 
 night workers. There were some nine cots in the place, 
 two or three wooden chairs, a soap box, and a small,
 
 460 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 round-bellied stove, in which a fire was blazing. Early 
 as he was, another man was there before him. The 
 latter was sitting beside the stove warming his hands. 
 
 Hurstwood approached and held out his own toward 
 the fire. He was sick of the bareness and privation of 
 all things connected with his venture, but was steeling 
 himself to hold out. He fancied he could for a while. 
 
 " Cold, isn't it?" said the early guest. 
 
 " Rather." 
 
 A long silence. 
 
 " Not much of a place to sleep in, is it?" said the 
 man. 
 
 " Better than nothing," replied Hurstwood. 
 
 Another silence. 
 
 " I believe I'll turn in," said the man. 
 
 Rising, he went to one of the cots and stretched him- 
 self, removing only his shoes, and pulling the one blan- 
 ket and dirty old comforter over him in a sort of bundle. 
 The sight disgusted Hurstwood, but he did not dwell 
 on it, choosing to gaze into the stove and think of some- 
 thing else. Presently he decided to retire, and picked 
 a cot, also removing his shoes. 
 
 While he was doing so, the youth who had advised 
 him to come here entered, and, seeing Hurstwood, tried 
 to be genial. 
 
 k< Bettern nothin'," he observed, looking around. 
 
 Hurstwood did not take this to himself. He thought 
 it to be an expression of individual satisfaction, and so 
 did not answer. The youth imagined he was out of 
 sorts, and set to whistling softly. Seeing another man 
 asleep, he quit that and lapsed into silence. 
 
 Hurstwood made the best of a bad lot by keeping on 
 his clothes and pushing away the dirty covering from 
 his head, but at last he dozed in sheer weariness. The 
 covering became more and more comfortable, its char-
 
 SISTER CARRIE 461 
 
 acter was forgotten, and he pulled it about his neck and 
 slept. 
 
 In the morning- he was aroused out of a pleasant 
 dream by several men stirring about in the cold, cheerless 
 room. He had been back in Chicago in fancy, in his 
 own comfortable home. Jessica had been arranging 
 to go somewhere, and he had been talking with her 
 about it. This was so clear in his mind, that he was 
 startled now by the contrast of this room. He raised 
 his head, and the cold, bitter reality jarred him intc 
 wakefulness. 
 
 " Guess I'd better get up," he said. 
 
 There was no water on this floor. He put on his shoer 
 in the cold and stood up, shaking himself in his stiffness. 
 His clothes felt disagreeable, his hair bad. 
 
 " Hell ! " he muttered, as he put on his hat. 
 
 Downstairs things were stirring again. 
 
 He found a hydrant, with a trough which had once 
 been used for horses, but there was no towel here, and 
 his handkerchief was soiled from yesterday. He con- 
 tented himself with wetting his eyes with the ice-cold 
 water. Then he sought the foreman, who was already 
 on the ground. 
 
 " Had your breakfast yet?" inquired that worthy. 
 
 " No," said Hurstwood. 
 
 " Better get it, then; your car won't be ready for a 
 little while." 
 
 Hurstwood hesitated. 
 
 " Could you let me have a meal ticket?" he asked, 
 with an effort. 
 
 " Here you are," said the man, handing him one. 
 
 He breakfasted as poorly as the night before on some 
 fried steak and bad coffee. Then he went back. 
 
 " Here," said the foreman, motioning him, when he 
 came in. " You take this car out in a few minutes."
 
 462 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 Hurstwood climbed up on the platform in the gloomy 
 barn and waited for a signal. He was nervous, and yet 
 the thing was a relief. Anything was better than the 
 barn. 
 
 On this the fourth day of the strike, the situation had 
 taken a turn for the worse. The strikers, following the 
 counsel of their leaders and the newspapers, had strug- 
 gled peaceably enough. There had been no great 
 violence done. Cars had been stopped, it is true, and 
 the men argued with. Some crews had been won over 
 and led away, some windows broken, some jeering and 
 yelling done ; but in no more than five or six instances 
 had men been seriously injured. These by crowds 
 whose acts the leaders disclaimed. 
 
 Idleness, however, and the sight of the company, 
 backed by the police, triumphing, angered the men. 
 They saw that each day more cars were going on, each 
 day more declarations were being made by the com- 
 pany officials that the effective opposition of the strikers 
 was broken. This put desperate thoughts in the minds 
 of the men. Peaceful methods meant, they saw, that 
 the companies would soon run all their cars and those 
 who had complained would be forgotten. There was 
 nothing so helpful to the companies as peaceful 
 methods. 
 
 All at once they blazed forth, and for a week there 
 was storm and stress. Cars were assailed, men at- 
 tacked, policemen struggled with, tracks torn up, and 
 shots fired, until at last street fights and mob move- 
 ments became frequent, and the city was invested with 
 militia. 
 
 Hurstwood knew nothing of the change of temper. 
 
 " Run your car out," called the foreman, waving a 
 vigorous hand at him. A green conductor jumped up 
 behind and rang the Dull twice as a signal to start
 
 SISTER CARRIE 463 
 
 Hurstwood turned the lever and ran the car out 
 through the door into the street in front of the barn. 
 Here two brawny policemen got up beside him on the 
 platform one on either hand. 
 
 At the sound of a gong near the barn door, two bella 
 were given by the conductor and Hurstwood opened 
 his lever. 
 
 The two policemen looked about them calmly. 
 
 " 'Tis cold, all right, this morning," said the one off 
 the left, who possessed a rich brogue. 
 
 " I had enough of it yesterday," said the other. " 1 
 wouldn't want a steady job of this." 
 
 " Nor I." 
 
 Neither paid the slightest attention to Hurstwood, 
 who stood facing the cold wind, which was chilling 
 him completely, and thinking of his orders. 
 
 " Keep a steady gait," the foreman had said. " Don't 
 stop for any one who doesn't look like a real passenger. 
 Whatever you do, don't stop for a crowd." 
 
 The two officers kept silent for a few moments. 
 
 " The last man must have gone through all right," 
 said the officer on the left. " I don't see his car any- 
 where." 
 
 " Who's on there ? " asked the second officer, refer- 
 ring, of course, to its complement of policemen. 
 
 " Schaeffer and Ryan." 
 
 There was another silence, in which the car ran 
 smoothly along. There were not so many houses along 
 this part of the way. Hurstwood did not see many 
 people either. The situation was not wholly disagree- 
 able to him. If he were not so cold, he thought he 
 would do well enough. 
 
 He was brought out of this feeling by the sudden 
 appearance of a curve ahead, which he had not expected. 
 He shut off the current and did an energetic turn at the
 
 464 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 brake, but not in time to avoid an unnaturally quick 
 turn. It shook him up and made him feel like making 
 some apologetic remarks, but he refrained. 
 
 " You want to look out for them things," said the 
 officer on the left, condescendingly. 
 
 " That's right," agreed Hurstwood, shamefacedly. 
 
 " There's lots of them on this line," said the officer 
 on the right. 
 
 Around the corner a more populated way 'appeared. 
 One or two pedestrians were in view ahead. A boy 
 coming out of a gate with a tin milk bucket gave Hurst- 
 wood his first objectionable greeting. 
 
 " Scab !" he yelled. "Scab!" 
 
 Hurstwood heard it, but tried to make no comment, 
 even to himself. He knew he would get that, and much 
 more of the same sort, probably. 
 
 At a corner farther up a man stood by the track and 
 signalled the car to stop. 
 
 " Never mind him," said one of the officers. " He's 
 up to some game." 
 
 Hurstwood obeyed. At the corner he saw the wis- 
 dom of it. No sooner did the man perceive the inten- 
 tion to ignore him, than he shook his fist. 
 
 " Ah, you bloody coward ! " he yelled. 
 
 Some half dozen men, standing on the corner, flung 
 taunts and jeers after the speeding car. 
 
 Hurstwood winced the least bit. The real thing 
 was slightly worse than the thoughts of it had been. 
 
 Now came in sight, three or four blocks farther on, 
 a heap of something on the track. 
 
 " They've been at work, here, all right," said one of 
 the policemen. 
 
 " We'll have an argument, maybe," said the other. 
 
 Hurstwood ran the car close and stopped. He had 
 not done so wholly, however, before a crowd gathered
 
 SISTER CARRIE 465 
 
 about. It was composed of ex-motormen and con- 
 ductors in part, with a sprinkling of friends and sym- 
 pathisers. 
 
 " Come off the car, pardner," said one of the men in 
 a voice meant to be conciliatory. " You don't want to 
 take the bread out of another man's mouth, do you? " 
 
 Hurstwood held to his brake and lever, pale and very 
 uncertain what to do. 
 
 " Stanfr back," yelled one of the officers, leaning over 
 the platform railing. " Clear out of this, now. Give 
 the man a chance to do his work." 
 
 " Listen, pardner," said the leader, ignoring the 
 policeman and addressing Hurstwood. " We're all 
 working men, like yourself. If you were a regular 
 motorman, and had been treated as we've been, you 
 wouldn't want any one to come in and take your place, 
 would you? You wouldn't want any one to do you 
 out of your chance to get your rights, would you? " 
 
 " Shut her off ! shut her off ! " urged the other of the 
 policemen, roughly. " Get out of this, now," and he 
 jumped the railing and landed before the crowd and 
 began shoving. Instantly the other officer was down 
 beside him. 
 
 " Stand back, now," they yelled. " Get out of this. 
 What the hell do you mean ? Out, now." 
 
 It was like a small swarm of bees. 
 
 " Don't shove me," said one of the strikers, deter- 
 minedly. " I'm not doing anything." 
 
 " Get out of this ! " cried the officer, swinging his 
 club. " I'll give ye a bat on the sconce. Back, now." 
 
 " What the hell ! " cried another of the strikers, push- 
 ing the other way, adding at the same time some lusty 
 oaths. 
 
 Crack came an officer's club on his forehead. He 
 blinked his eyes blindly a few times, wabbled on his
 
 466 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 legs, threw up his hands, and staggered back. In re- 
 turn, a swift fist landed on the officer's neck. 
 
 Infuriated by this, the latter plunged left and right, 
 laying about madly with his club. He was ably as- 
 sisted by his brother of the blue, who poured ponderous 
 oaths upon the troubled waters. No severe damage 
 was done, owing to the agility of the strikers in keep- 
 ing out of reach. They stood about the sidewalk now 
 and jeered. 
 
 '" Where is the conductor? " yelled one of the officers, 
 getting his eye on that individual, who had come ner- 
 vously forward to stand by Hurstwood. The latter 
 had stood gazing upon the scene with more astonish- 
 ment than fear. 
 
 " Why don't you come down here and get these 
 stones off the track?" inquired the officer. "What 
 you standing there for? Do you want to stay here all 
 day? Get down." 
 
 Hurstwood breathed heavily in excitement and 
 jumped down with the nervous conductor as if he had 
 been called. 
 
 " Hurry up, now," said the other policeman. 
 
 Cold as it was, these officers were hot and mad. 
 Hurstwood worked with the conductor, lifting stone 
 after stone and warming himself by the work. 
 
 " Ah, you scab, you ! " yelled the crowd. " You 
 coward ! Steal a man's job, will you ? Rob the poor, 
 will you, you thief? We'll get you yet, now. Wait." 
 
 Not all of this was delivered by one man. It came 
 from here and there, incorporated with much more of 
 the same sort and curses. 
 
 " Work, you blackguards," yelled a voice. " Do the 
 dirty work. You're the suckers that keep the poor 
 people down ! " 
 
 " May God starve ye yet," yelled an old Irish woman,
 
 SISTER CARRIE 467 
 
 who now threw open a nearby window and stuck out 
 her head. 
 
 " Yes, and you," she added, catching the eye of one 
 of the policemen. " You bloody, murtherin' thafe ! 
 Crack my son over the head, will you, you hard- 
 hearted, murtherin' divil? Ah, ye " 
 
 But the officer turned a deaf ear. 
 
 " Go to the devil, you old hag," he half muttered as 
 he stared round upon the scattered company. 
 
 Now the stones were off, and Hurstwood took his 
 place again amid a continued chorus of epithets. Both 
 officers got up beside him and the conductor rang the 
 bell, when, bang! bang! through window and door 
 came rocks and stones. One narrowly grazed Hurst- 
 wood's head. Another shattered the window behind. 
 
 " Throw open your lever," yelled one of the officers, 
 grabbing at the handle himself. 
 
 Hurstwood complied and the car shot away, followed 
 by a rattle of stones and a rain of curses. 
 
 " That hit me in the neck," said one of 
 
 the officers. " I gave him a good crack for it, though." 
 
 " I think I must have left spots on some of them," 
 said the other. 
 
 " I know that big guy that called us a ," 
 
 said the first. " I'll get him yet for that." 
 
 " I thought we were in for it sure, once there," said 
 the second. 
 
 Hurstwood, warmed and excited, gazed steadily 
 ahead. It was an astonishing experience for him. He 
 had read of these things, but the reality seemed some- 
 thing altogether new. He was no coward in spirit. 
 The fact that he had suffered this much now rather 
 operated to arouse a stolid determination to stick it 
 out. He did not recur in thought to New York or tb- 
 flat. This one trip seemed a consuming thing.
 
 08 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 They now ran into the business heart of Brooklyn 
 uninterrupted. People gazed at the broken windows 
 of the car and at Hurstwood in his plain clothes. 
 Voices called " scab " now and then, as well as other 
 epithets, but no crowd attacked the car. At the down- 
 town end of the line, one of the officers went to call up 
 his station and report the trouble. 
 
 "There's a gang out there," he said, "laying for us yet. 
 Better send some one over there and clean them out." 
 
 The car ran back more quietly hooted, watched, 
 flung at, but not attacked. Hurstwood breathed freely 
 when he saw the barns. 
 
 " Well," he observed to himself, " I came out of that 
 all right." 
 
 The car was turned in and he was allowed to loaf 
 a while, but later he was again called. This time a new 
 team of officers was aboard. Slightly more confident, 
 he sped the car along the commonplace streets and felt 
 somewhat less fearful. On one side, however, he suf- 
 fered intensely. The day was raw, with a sprinkling 
 of snow and a gusty wind, made all the more intoler- 
 able by the speed of the car. His clothing was not in- 
 tended for this sort of work. He shivered, stamped his 
 feet, and beat his arms as he had seen other motormen 
 do in the past,but said nothing. The novelty and danger 
 of the situation modified in away hisdisgustand distress 
 at being compelled to be here, but not enough to prevent 
 him from feeling grim and sour. This was a dog's life, 
 he thought. It was a tough thing to have to come to. 
 
 The one thought that strengthened him was the insult 
 offered by Carrie. He was not down so low as to take 
 all that, he thought. He could do something this, 
 even for a while. It would get better. He would 
 save a little. 
 
 A boy threw a clod of mud while he was thus re-
 
 SISTER CARRIE 469 
 
 fleeting and hit him upon the arm. It hurt sharply and 
 angered him more than he had been any time since 
 morning. 
 
 " The little cur! " he muttered. 
 
 " Hurt you ? " asked one of the policemen. 
 
 " No," he answered. 
 
 At one of the corners, where the car slowed up be- 
 cause of a turn, an ex-motorman, standing on the side- 
 walk, called to him : 
 
 " Won't you come out, pardner, and be a man ? Re- 
 member we're fighting for decent day's wages, that's 
 all. We've got families to support." The man seemed 
 most peaceably inclined. 
 
 Hurstwood pretended not to see him. He kept his 
 eyes straight on before and opened the lever wide. The 
 voice had something appealing in it. 
 
 All morning this went on and long into the after- 
 noon. He made three such trips. The dinner he had 
 was no stay for such work and the cold was telling on 
 him. At each end of the line he stopped to thaw out, 
 but he could have groaned at the anguish of it. One 
 of the barnmen, out of pity, loaned him a heavy cap 
 and a pair of sheepskin gloves, and for once he was 
 extremely thankful. 
 
 On the second trip of the afternoon he ran into a 
 crowd about half way along the line, that had blocked 
 the car's progress with an old telegraph pole. 
 
 " Get that thing off the track," shouted the two 
 policemen. 
 
 "Yah, yah, yah!" yelled the crowd. "Get it off 
 yourself." 
 
 The two policemen got down and Hurstwood started 
 to follow. 
 
 " You stay there," one called. " Some one will run 
 away with your car."
 
 ^70 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 Amid the babel of voices, Hurstwood heard one close 
 beside him. 
 
 " Come down, pardner, and be a man. Don't fight 
 the poor. Leave that to the corporations." 
 
 He saw the same fellow who had called to him from 
 the corner. Now, as before, he pretended not to hear 
 him. 
 
 " Come down," the man repeated gently. " You 
 don't want to fight poor men. Don't fight at all." It 
 was a most philosophic and Jesuitical motorman. 
 
 A third policeman joined the other two from some- 
 where and some one ran to telephone for more officers. 
 Hurstwood gazed about, determined but fearful. 
 
 A man grabbed him by the coat. 
 
 " Come off of that," he exclaimed, jerking at him and 
 drying to pull him over the railing. 
 
 " Let go," said Hurstwood, savagely. 
 
 " I'll show you you scab ! " cried a young Irishman, 
 jumping up on the car and aiming a blow at Hurst- 
 wood. The latter ducked and caught it on the shoulder 
 instead of the jaw. 
 
 " Away from here," shouted an officer, hastening to 
 the rescue, and adding, of course, the usual oaths. 
 
 Hurstwood recovered himself, pale and trembling. 
 It was becoming serious with him now. People were 
 looking up and jeering at him. One girl was making 
 faces. 
 
 He began to waver in his resolution, when a patrol 
 wagon rolled up and more officers dismounted. Now 
 the track was quickly cleared and the release effected. 
 
 " Let her go now, quick," said the officer, and again 
 he was off. 
 
 The end came with a real mob, which met the car 
 on its return trip a mile or two from the barns. It 
 was an exceedingly poor-looking neighbourhood. He
 
 SISTER CARRIE 471 
 
 wanted to run fast through it, but again the track was 
 blocked. He saw men carrying something out to it 
 when he was yet a half-dozen blocks away. 
 
 " There they are again ! " exclaimed one policeman. 
 
 " I'll give them something this time," said the sec- 
 ond officer, whose patience was becoming worn. 
 Hurstwood suffered a qualm of body as the car rolled 
 up. As before, the crowd began hooting, but now, rather 
 than come near, they threw things. One or two windows 
 were smashed and Hurstwood dodged a stone. 
 
 Both policemen ran out toward the crowd, but the 
 latter replied by running toward the car. A woman 
 a mere girl in appearance was among these, bearing 
 a rough stick. She was exceedingly wrathful and 
 struck at Hurstwood, who dodged. Thereupon, her 
 companions, duly encouraged, jumped on the car and 
 pulled Hurstwood over. He had hardly time to speak 
 or shout before he fell. 
 
 " Let go of me," he said, falling on his side. 
 
 " Ah, you sucker," he heard some one say. .Kicks 
 and blows rained on him. He seemed to be suffocating. 
 Then two men seemed to be dragging him off and he 
 wrestled for freedom. 
 
 " Let up," said a voice, " you're all right. Stand up." 
 
 He was let loose and recovered himself. Now he 
 recognised two officers. He felt as if he would faint 
 from exhaustion. Something was wet on his chin. 
 He put up his hand and felt, then looked. It was red. 
 
 " They cut me," he said, foolishly, fishing for his 
 handkerchief. 
 
 " Now, now," said one pf the officers. " It's only a 
 scratch." 
 
 His senses became cleared now and he looked around. 
 He was standing in a little store, where they left him' 
 for the moment. Outside, he could see, as he stood
 
 472 
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 wiping his chin, the car and the excited crowd. A 
 patrol wagon was there, and another. 
 
 He walked over and looked out. It was an ambu 
 lance, backing in. 
 
 He saw some energetic charging by the police and 
 arrests being made. 
 
 " Come on, now, if you want to take your car," said 
 an officer, opening the door and looking in. 
 
 He walked out, feeling rather uncertain of himself. 
 He was very cold and frightened. 
 
 "Where's the conductor?" he asked. 
 
 " Oh, he's not here now," said the policeman. 
 
 Hurstwood went toward the car and stepped ner- 
 vously on. As he did so there was a pistol shot. 
 Something stung his shoulder. 
 
 " Who fired that? " he heard an officer exclaim. " By 
 God ! who did that ? " Both left him, running toward 
 a certain building. He paused a moment and then got 
 down. 
 
 " George ! " exclaimed Hurstwood, weakly, " this is 
 too much for me." 
 
 He walked nervously to the corner and hurried down 
 a side street. 
 
 " Whew ! " he said, drawing in his breath. 
 
 A half block away, a small girl gazed at him. 
 
 " You'd better sneak," she called. 
 
 He walked homeward in a blinding snowstorm, 
 reaching the ferry by dusk. The cabins were filled 
 with comfortable souls, who studied him curiously. His 
 head was still in such a whirl that he felt confused. All 
 the wonder of the twinkling lights of the river in a white 
 storm passed for nothing. He trudged doggedly on until 
 he reached the flat. There he entered and found the 
 room warm. Carrie was gone. A couple of evening 
 papers were lying on the table where she left them. He
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 473 
 
 lit the gas and sat down. Then he got up and stripped 
 to examine his shoulder. It was a mere scratch. He 
 washed his hands and face, still in a brown study, ap- 
 parently, and combed his hair. Then he looked for some- 
 thing to eat, and finally, 'his hunger gone, sat down in 
 his comfortable rocking-chair. It was a wonderful 
 relief. 
 
 He put his hand to his chin, forgetting, for the mo- 
 ment, the papers. 
 
 " Well," he said, after a time, his nature recovering 
 itself, " that's a pretty tough game over there." 
 
 Then he turned and saw the papers. With half a 
 sigh he picked up the " World." 
 
 " Strike Spreading in Brooklyn," he read. " Rioting 
 Breaks Out in all Parts of the City." 
 
 He adjusted his paper very comfortably and con- 
 tinued. It was the one thing he read with absorbing 
 interest.
 
 W* v 
 
 re* 
 
 CHAPTER XLII 
 A TOUCH OF SPRING: THE EMPTY SHELL 
 
 Those who look upon Hurstwood's Brooklyn ven- 
 ture as an error of judgment will none the less realise 
 the negative influence on him of the fact that he had 
 tried and failed. Carrie got a wrong idea of it. He 
 said so little that she imagined he had encountered 
 nothing worse than the ordinary roughness quitting 
 so soon in the face of this seemed trifling. He did not 
 want to work. 
 
 was now one of a group of oriental beauties who, 
 in the second act of the comic opera, were paraded by 
 the vizier before the new potentate as the treasures of 
 his harem. There was no word assigned to any of 
 them, but on the evening when Hurstwood was hous- 
 ing himself in the loft of the street-car barn, the lead- 
 ing comedian and star, feeling exceedingly facetious, 
 said in a profound voice, which created a ripple of 
 laughter : 
 
 " Well, who are you ? " 
 
 It merely happened to be Carrie who was courtesying 
 before him. It might as well have been any of the 
 others, so far as he was concerned. He expected no 
 answer and a dull one would have been reproved. 
 But Carrie, whose experience and belief in herself gave 
 her daring, courtesied sweetly again and answered : 
 
 " I am yours truly." 
 
 It was a trivial thing to say, and yet something in
 
 SISTER CARRIE 475 
 
 the way she did it caught the audience, which laughed 
 heartily at the mock-fierce potentate towering before 
 the young woman. The comedian also liked it, hear- 
 ing the laughter. 
 
 " I thought your name was Smith," he returned, en- 
 deavouring to get the last laugh. 
 
 Carrie almost trembled for her daring after she had 
 said this. All members of the company had been 
 warned that to interpolate lines or " business " meant 
 a fine or worse. She did not know what to think. 
 
 As she was standing in her proper position in the 
 wings, awaiting another entry, the great comedian 
 made his exit past her and paused in recognition. 
 
 " You can just leave that in hereafter," he remarked, 
 seeing how intelligent she appeared. " Don't add any 
 more, though." 
 
 " Thank you," said Carrie, humbly. When he went 
 on she found herself trembling violently. 
 
 " Well, you're in luck," remarked another member oi 
 the chorus. " There isn't another one of us has got a 
 line." 
 
 There was no gainsaying the value of this. Every- 
 body in the company realised that she had got a start. 
 Carrie hugged herself when next evening the lines got 
 the same applause. She went home rejoicing, knowing 
 that soon something must come of it. j It wasTEIuritr 
 wood who, by his presence, caused her merry thoughts 
 to flee and replaced them with sharp longings for an 
 end of distress. 
 
 The next day she asked him about his venture. 
 
 " They're not trying to run any cars except with 
 police. They don't want anybody just now not be- 
 fore next week." 
 
 Next week came, but Carrie saw no change. Hurst- 
 Wood seemed more apathetic than ever. He saw her
 
 4 
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 off mornings to rehearsals and the like with the utmost 
 calm. He read and read. Several times he found him- 
 self staring at an item, but thinking of something else. 
 The first of these lapses that he sharply noticed con- 
 cerned a hilarious party he had once attended at a 
 driving club, of which he had been a member. He sat, 
 gazing downward, and gradually thought he heard the 
 old voices and the clink of glasses. 
 
 " You're a dandy, Hurstwood," his friend Walker 
 said. He was standing again well dressed, smiling, 
 good-natured, the recipient of encores for a good story. 
 
 All at once he looked up. The room was so still it 
 seemed ghostlike. He heard the clock ticking audibly 
 and half suspected that he had been dozing. The 
 paper was so straight in his hands, however, and the 
 items he had been reading so directly before him, that 
 he rid himself of the doze idea. Still, it seemed pecu- 
 liar. When it occurred a second time, however, it did 
 not seem quite so strange. 
 
 Butcher and grocery man, baker and coal man not 
 the group with whom he was then dealing, but those 
 who had trusted him to the limit called. He met 
 them all blandly, becoming deft in excuse. At last he 
 became bold, pretended to be out, or waved them off. 
 
 " They can't get blood out of a turnip," he said. " If 
 I had it I'd pay them." 
 
 Carrie's little soldier friend, Miss Osborne, seeing 
 her succeeding, had become a sort of satellite. Little 
 Osborne could never of herself amount to anything. 
 She seemed to realise it in a sort of pussy-like way 
 and instinctively concluded to cling with her soft little 
 claws to Carrie. 
 
 " Oh, you'll get up," she kept telling Carrie with 
 admiration. " You're so good." 
 
 Timid as Carrie was, she was strong in capability.
 
 SISTER CARRIE 477 
 
 The reliance of others made her feel as if she must, and 
 when she must she dared. Experience of the world 
 and of necessity was in her favour. No longer the 
 lightest word of a man made her head dizzy. She had 
 learned that men could change and fail. Flattery in its 
 most palpable form had lost its force with her. It re- 
 quired superiority kindly superiority to move her 
 the superiority of a genius like Ames. 
 
 " I don't like the actors in our company," she told 
 Lola one day. " They're all so struck on themselves." 
 
 "Don't you think Mr. Barclay's pretty nice?" in- 
 quired Lola, who had received a condescending smile 
 or two from that quarter. 
 
 " Oh, he's nice enough," answered Carrie ; " but he 
 isn't sincere. He assumes such an air." 
 
 Lola felt for her first hold upon Carrie in the follow- 
 ing manner: 
 
 " Are you paying room-rent where you are ? " 
 
 "Certainly," answered Carrie. "Why?" 
 
 " I know where I could get the loveliest room and 
 bath, cheap. It's too big for me, but it would be just 
 right for two, and the rent is only six dollars a week 
 for both." 
 
 "Where?" said Carrie. 
 
 " In Seventeenth Street." 
 
 " Well, I don't know as I'd care to change," said 
 Carrie, who was already turning over the three-dollar 
 rate in her mind. She was thinking if she had only 
 herself to support this would leave her seventeen for 
 herself. 
 
 Nothing came of this until after the Brooklyn ad- 
 venture of Hurstwood's and her success with the speak- 
 ing part. Then she began to feel as if she must be 
 free. She thought of leaving Hurstwood and thus 
 making him act for himself, but he had developed such
 
 47* 
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 peculiar traits she feared he might resist any effort to 
 throw him off. He might hunt her out at the show 
 and hound her in that way. She did not wholly believe 
 that he would, but he might. This, she knew, would 
 be an embarrassing thing if he made himself con- 
 spicuous in any way. It troubled her greatly. 
 
 liings were precipitated by the offer of a better 
 part. One of the actresses playing the part of a mod- 
 est sweetheart gave notice of leaving and Carrie was 
 selected. 
 
 "How much are you going to get?" asked Miss 
 Osborne, on hearing the good news. 
 
 " I didn't ask him," said Carrie. 
 
 "Well, find out. Goodness, you'll never get any- 
 thing if you don't ask. Tell them you must have forty 
 dollars, anyhow." 
 
 " Oh, no," said Carrie. 
 
 " Certainly ! " exclaimed Lola. " Ask 'em, anyway." 
 
 Carrie succumbed to this prompting, waiting, how- 
 ever, until the manager gave her notice of what cloth- 
 ing she must have to fit the part. 
 
 " How much do I get?" she inquired. 
 
 " Thirty-five dollars," he replied. 
 
 Carrie was too much astonished and delighted to 
 think of mentioning forty. She was nearly beside her- 
 self, and almost hugged Lola, who clung to her at the 
 news. 
 
 " It isn't as much as you ought to get," said the lat- 
 ter, " especially when you've got to buy clothes." 
 
 Carrie remembered this with a start. Where to get 
 the money? She had none laid up for such an emer- 
 gency. Rent day was drawing near. 
 
 " I'll not do it," she said, remembering her necessity. 
 " I don't use the flat. I'm not going to give up my 
 money this time. I'll move."
 
 SISTER CARRIE 479 
 
 Fitting into this came another appeal from Miss 
 Osborne, more urgent than ever. 
 
 " Come live with me, won't you? " she pleaded. " We 
 can have the loveliest room. It won't cost you hardly 
 anything that way." 
 
 " I'd like to," said Carrie, frankly. 
 
 " Oh, do," said Lola. " We'll have such a good 
 time." 
 
 Carrie thought a while. 
 
 "I believe I will," she said, and then added: "I'll 
 have to see first, though." 
 
 With the idea thus grounded, rent day approaching, 
 and clothes calling for instant purchase, she soon found 
 excuse in Hurstwood's lassitude. He said less and 
 drooped more than ever. _ ._ 
 
 As rent day approached, an idea grew in him. It 
 was fostered by the demands of creditors and the im- 
 possibility of holding up many more. Twenty-eight 
 dollars was too much for rent. " It's hard on her," he 
 thought. " We could get a cheaper place." 
 
 Stirred with this idea, he spoke at the breakfast 
 table. 
 
 " Don't you think we pay too much rent here ? " he 
 asked" 
 
 " Indeed I do," said Carrie, not catching his drift. 
 
 " I should think we could get a smaller place," h? 
 suggested. " We don't need four rooms." 
 
 Her countenance, had he been scrutinising her, 
 would have exhibited the disturbance she felt at this 
 evidence of his determination to stay by her. He 
 saw nothing remarkable in asking her to come down 
 lower. 
 
 " Oh, I don't know," she answered, growing wary. 
 
 " There must be places around here where we could 
 get a couple of rooms, which would do just as well."
 
 
 4 g SISTER CARRIE 
 
 Her heart revolted. " Never ! " she thought. Who 
 would furnish the money to move? To think of being 
 in two rooms with him ! She resolved to spend her 
 money for clothes quickly, before something terrible 
 happened. That very day she did it. Having done so, 
 there was but one other thing to do. 
 
 " Lola," she said, visiting her friend, " I think I'll 
 come." 
 
 " Oh, jolly! " cried the latter. 
 
 " Can we get it right away ? " she asked, meaning the 
 room. 
 
 " Certainly," cried Lola. 
 
 They went to look at it. Carrie had saved ten dol- 
 lars from her expenditures enough for this and her 
 board beside. Her enlarged salary would not begin 
 for ten days yet would not reach her for seventeen. 
 She paid half of the six dollars with her friend. 
 
 " Now, I've just enough to get on to the end of the 
 week," she confided. 
 
 " Oh, I've got some," said Lola. " I've got twenty- 
 five dollars, if you need it." 
 
 " No," said Carrie. " I guess I'll get along." 
 
 They decided to move Friday, which was two days 
 away. Now that the thing was settled, Carrie's heart 
 misgave her. She felt very much like a criminal in the 
 matter. Each day looking at Hurstwood, she had real- 
 ised that, along with the disagreeableness of his atti- 
 tude, there was something pathetic. 
 
 She looked at him the same evening she had made 
 up her mind to go, and now he seemed not so shiftless 
 and worthless, but run down and beaten upon by 
 chance. His eyes were not keen, his face marked, his 
 hands flabby. She thought his hair had a touch of 
 grey. All unconscious of his doom, he rocked and 
 read his paper, while she glanced at him.
 
 SISTER CARRIE 481 
 
 Knowing that the end was so near, she became rather 
 solicitous. 
 
 " Will you go over and get some canned peaches? " 
 she asked Hurstwood, laying down a two-dollar bill. 
 
 " Certainly," he said, looking in wonder at the 
 money. 
 
 " See if you can get some nice asparagus," she added. 
 " I'll cook it for dinner." 
 
 Hurstwood rose and took the money, slipping on his 
 overcoat and getting his hat. Carrie noticed that both 
 of these articles of apparel were old and poor looking 
 in appearance. It was plain enough before, but now 
 it came home with peculiar force. Perhaps he couldn't 
 help it, after all. He had done well in Chicago. ..She 
 remembered his fine appearance the days he had met 
 her in the park. Then he was so sprightly, so clean. 
 Had it been all his fault? 
 
 He came back and laid the change down with the 
 food. 
 
 " You'd better keep it," she observed. " We'll need 
 other things." 
 
 " No," he said, with a sort of pride ; " you keep it." 
 
 " Oh, go on and keep it," she replied, rather un- 
 nerved. " There'll be other things." 
 
 He wondered at this, not knowing the pathetic figure 
 he had become in her eyes. She restrained herself with 
 difficulty from showing a quaver in her voice. 
 
 To say truly, this would have been Carrie's attitude 
 in any case. She had looked back at times upon her 
 parting from Drouet and had regretted that she had 
 served him so badly. She hoped she would never meet 
 him again, but she was ashamed of her conduct. Not 
 that she had any choice in the final separation. She 
 had gone willingly to seek him, with sympathy in her 
 heart, when Hurstwood had reported him ill. There
 
 4 g 2 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 was something cruel somewhere, and not being able 
 to track it mentally to its logical lair, she concluded 
 with feeling that he would never understand what 
 Hurstwood had done and would see hard-hearted de- 
 cision in her deed; hence her shame. Not that she 
 cared for him. She did not want to make any one 
 who had been good to her feel badly. 
 
 She did not realise what she was doing by allowing 
 these feelings to possess her. Hurstwood, noticing the 
 kindness, conceived better of her. " Carrie's good- 
 natured, anyhow," he thought. 
 
 Going to Miss Osborne's that afternoon, she found 
 that little lady packing and singing. 
 
 "Why don't you come over with me to-day?" she 
 asked. 
 
 " Oh, I can't," said Carrie. " I'll be there Friday. 
 Would you mind lending me the twenty-five dollars you 
 spoke of ? " 
 
 " Why, no," said Lola, going for her purse. 
 
 " I want to get some other things," said Carrie. 
 
 " Oh, that's all right," answered the little girl, good- 
 naturedly, glad to be of service. 
 
 It had been days since Hurstwood had done more 
 than go to the grocery or to the news-stand. Now the 
 weariness of indoors was upon him had been for two 
 days but chill, grey weather had held him back. Fri- 
 day broke fair and warm. It was one of those lovely 
 harbingers of spring, given as a sign in dreary winter 
 that earth is not forsaken of warmth and beauty. The 
 blue heaven, holding its one golden orb, poured down 
 a crystal wash of warm light. It was plain, from the 
 voice of the sparrows, that all was halcyon outside. 
 Carrie raised the front windows, and felt the south 
 wind blowing. 
 
 " It's lovely out to-day," she remarked.
 
 SISTER CARRIE 483 
 
 " Is it? " said Hurstwood. 
 
 After breakfast, he immediately got his other clothes. 
 
 "Will you be back for lunch?" asked Carrie, ner- 
 vously. 
 
 " No," he said. 
 
 He went out into the streets and tramped north, 
 along Seventh Avenue, idly fixing upon the Harlem 
 River as an objective point. He had seen some ships 
 up there, the time he had called upon the brewers. He 
 wondered how the territory thereabouts was growing. 
 
 Passing Fifty-ninth Street, he took the west side of 
 Central Park, which he followed to Seventy-eighth 
 Street. Then he remembered the neighbourhood and 
 turned over to look at the mass of buildings erected. 
 It was very much improved. The great open spaces 
 were filling up. Coming back, he kept to the Park 
 until noth Street, and then turned into Seventh Ave- 
 nue again, reaching the pretty river by one o'clock. 
 
 There it ran winding before his gaze, shining 
 brightly in the clear light, between the undulating 
 banks on the right and the tall, tree-covered heights on 
 the left. The spring-like atmosphere woke him to a 
 sense of its loveliness, and for a few moments he stood 
 looking at it, folding his hands behind his back. Ther 
 he turned and followed it toward the east side, idly 
 seeking the ships he had seen. It^was four o'clock be- 
 fore the waning day, with its suggestion of a cooler 
 evening, caused him to return. He was hungry 
 would enjoy eating in the warm room. 
 
 When he reached the flat by half-past five, it was 
 still dark. He knew that Carrie was not there, not 
 only because there was no light showing through the 
 transom, but because the evening papers were stuck be- 
 tween the outside knob and the door. He opened with 
 his key and went in. Everything was still dark. Light
 
 484 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 ing the gas, he sat down, preparing to wait a little 
 while. Even if Carrie did come now, dinner would be 
 late. He_ad uatil six, then got up to fix something 
 for himself. 
 
 As he did so, he noticed that the room seemed a little 
 queer. What was it? He looked around, as if he 
 missed something, and then saw an envelope near 
 where he had been sitting. It spoke for itself, almost 
 without further action on his part. 
 
 Reaching over, he took it, a sort of chill settling upon 
 him even while he reached. The crackle of the en- 
 velope in his hands was loud. Green paper money lay 
 soft within the note. 
 
 " Dear George," he read, crunching the money in one hand. 
 " I'm going away. I'm not coming back any more. It's no use 
 trying to keep up the flat ; I can't do it. I wouldn't mind helping 
 you, if I could, but I can't support us both, and pay the rent. I 
 need what little I make to pay for my clothes. I'm leaving 
 twenty dollars. It's all I have just now. You can do whatever 
 you like with the furniture. I won't want it. CARRIE." 
 
 He dropped the note and looked quietly round. Now 
 he knew what he missed. It was the little ornamental 
 clock, which was hers. It had gone from the mantel- 
 piece. He went into the front room, his bedroom, the 
 parlour, lighting the gas as he went. From the chif- 
 fonier had gone the knick-knacks of silver and plate. 
 From the table-top, the lace coverings. He opened 
 the wardrobe no clothes of hers. He opened the 
 drawers nothing of hers. Her trunk was gone from 
 its accustomed place. Back in his own room hung his 
 old clothes, just as he had left them. Nothing else was 
 gone. 
 
 He stepped into the parlour and stood for a few mo- 
 ments looking vacantly at the floor. The silence grew
 
 SISTER CARRIE 485 
 
 oppressive. The little flat seemed wonderfully de- 
 serted. He wholly forgot that he was hungry, that it 
 was only dinner-time. It seemed later in the night. 
 
 Suddenly, he found that the money was still in his 
 hands. There were twenty dollars in all, as she had 
 said. Now he walked back, leaving the lights ablaze, 
 and feeling as if the flat were empty. 
 
 " I'll get out of this," he said to himself. 
 
 Then the sheer loneliness of his situation rushed 
 upon him in full. 
 
 " Left me ! " he muttered, and repeated, " left me ! " 
 
 The place that had been so comfortable, where he 
 had spent so many days of warmth, was now a memory. 
 Something colder and chillier confronted him. He 
 sank down in his chair, resting his chin in his hand 
 mere sensation, without thought, holding him. 
 
 Then something like a bereaved affection and self- 
 pity swept over him. 
 
 " She needn't have gone away," he said. " I'd have 
 got something." 
 
 He sat a long while without rocking, and added quiU 
 clearly, out loud : 
 
 "I tried, didn't I?" 
 
 At midnight he was still rocking, staring at the floor.
 
 CHAPTER XLIII 
 
 THE WORLD TURNS FLATTERER I AN EYE IN THE 
 
 Installed in her comfortable room, Carrie wondered 
 how Hurstwood had taken her departure. She ar- 
 ranged a few things hastily and then left for the 
 theatre, half expecting to encounter him at the door. 
 Not finding him, her dread lifted, and she felt more 
 kindly toward him. She quite forgot him until about 
 to come out, after the show, when the chance of his 
 being there frightened her. As day after day passed 
 and she heard nothing at all, the thought of being both- 
 ered by him passed. In a little while she was, except 
 for occasional thoughts, wholly free of the gloom with 
 which her life had been weighed in the flat. 
 
 It is curious to note how quickly a profession absorbs 
 one. Carrie became wise in theatrical lore, hearing 
 th'e gossip of little Lola. She learned what the theatri- 
 cal papers were, which ones published items about 
 actresses and the like. She began to read the news' 
 paper notices, not only of the opera in which she had 
 so small a part, but of others. Gradually the desire 
 for notice took hold of her. She longed to be renowned 
 like others, and read with avidity all the complimentary 
 or critical comments made concerning others high in 
 her profession. The showy world in which her in- 
 terest lay completely absorbed her. 
 
 It was about this time that the newspapers and 
 magazines were beginning to pay that illustrative at-
 
 SISTER CARRIE 487 
 
 tention to the beauties of the stage which has since be- 
 come fervid. The newspapers, and particularly the 
 Sunday newspapers, indulged in large decorative theat- 
 rical pages, in which the faces and forms of well-known 
 theatrical celebrities appeared, enclosed with artistic 
 scrolls. The magazines also or at least one or two 
 of the newer ones published occasional portraits of 
 pretty stars, and now and again photos of scenes 
 from various plays. Carrie watched these with grow- 
 ing interest. When would a scene from her opera 
 appear? When would some paper think her photo 
 worth while? 
 
 The Sunday before taking her new part she scanned 
 the theatrical pages for some little notice. It would 
 have accorded with her expectations if nothing had 
 been said, but there in the squibs, tailing off several 
 more substantial items, was a wee notice. Carrie read 
 it with a tingling body : 
 
 " The part of Katisha, the country maid, in ' The Wives of 
 Abdul ' at the Broadway, heretofore played by Inez Carew, will 
 be hereafter filled by Carrie Madenda, one of the cleverest mem- 
 bers of the chorus." 
 
 Carrie hugged herself with delight. Oh, wasn't it 
 just fine! At last! The first, the long-hoped for, the 
 delightful notice! And they called her clever. She 
 could hardly restrain herself from laughing loudly. 
 Had Lola seen it? 
 
 " They've got a notice here of the part I'm going to 
 play to-morrow night," said Carrie to her friend. 
 
 "Oh, jolly! Have they?" cried Lola, running to 
 her. " That's all right," she said, looking. " You'll 
 get more now, if you do well. I had my picture in the 
 ' World ' once." 
 
 " Did you ? " asked Carrie,
 
 j 
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 " Did I ? Well, I should say," returned the little 
 girl. " They had a frame around it." 
 
 Carrie laughed. 
 
 " They've never published my picture." 
 
 " But they will," said Lola. " You'll see. You do 
 better than most that get theirs in now." 
 
 Carrie felt deeply grateful for this. She almost loved 
 Lola for the sympathy and praise she extended. It 
 was so helpful to her so almost necessary. 
 
 Fulfilling her part capably brought another notice 
 in the papers that she was doing her work acceptably. 
 This pleased her immensely. She began to think the 
 world was taking note of her. 
 
 The first week she got her thirty-five dollars, it 
 seemed an enormous sum. Paying only three dollars 
 for room rent seemed ridiculous. After giving Lola 
 her twenty-five, she still had seven dollars left. With 
 four left over from previous earnings, she had eleven. 
 Five of this went to pay the regular installment on the 
 clothes she had to buy. The next week she was even 
 in greater feather. Now, only three dollars need be 
 paid for room rent and five on her clothes. The rest 
 she had for food and her own whims. 
 
 " You'd better save a little for summer," cautioned 
 Lola. " We'll probably close in May." 
 
 " I intend to," said Carrie. 
 
 The regular entrance of thirty-five dollars a week to 
 one who has endured scant allowances for several years 
 is a demoralising thing. Carrie found her purse burst- 
 ing with good green bills of comfortable denomina- 
 tions. Having no one dependent upon her, she began 
 to buy pretty clothes and pleasing trinkets, to eat well, 
 and to ornament her room. Friends were not long in 
 gathering about. She met a few young men who be- 
 longed to Lola's staff. The members of the opera
 
 SISTER CARRIE 489 
 
 company made her acquaintance without the formality 
 of introduction. One of these discovered a fancy for 
 her. On several occasions he strolled home with her. 
 
 " Let's stop in and have a rarebit," he suggested one 
 midnight. 
 
 " Very well," said Carrie. 
 
 In the rosy restaurant, filled with the merry lovers 
 of late hours, she found herself criticising this man. 
 He was too stilted, too self-opinionated. He did not 
 talk of anything that lifted her above the common run 
 of clothes and material success. When it was all over, 
 he smiled most graciously. 
 
 " Got to go straight home, have you ? " he said. 
 
 " Yes," she answered, with an air of quiet under- 
 standing. 
 
 " She's not so inexperienced as she looks," he 
 thought, and thereafter his respect and ardour were 
 increased. 
 
 She could not help sharing in Lola's love for a good 
 time. There were days when they went carriage rid- 
 ing, nights when after the show they dined, afternoons 
 when they strolled along Broadway, tastefully dressed. 
 She was getting in the meropolitan whirl of pleasure. 
 
 At last her picture appeared in one of the weeklies. 
 She had not known of it, and it took her breath. " Miss 
 Carrie Madenda," it was labelled. " One of the favour- 
 ites of ' The Wives of Abdul ' company." At Lola' 
 advice she had had some pictures taken by Sarony. 
 They had got one there. She thought of going down 
 and buying a few copies of the paper, but remembered 
 that there was no one she knew well enough to send 
 them to. Only Lola, apparently, in all the world was* 
 interested. 
 
 The metropolis is a cold place socially, and Carrie 
 soon found that a little money brought her nothing.
 
 490 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 The world of wealth and distinction was quite as far 
 away as ever. She could feel that there was no warm, 
 sympathetic friendship back of the easy merriment 
 with which many approached her. All seemed to b 
 seeking their own amusement, regardless of the pos- 
 sible sad consequence to others. So much for the les- 
 sons of Hurstwood and Drouet. 
 
 In April she learned that the opera would probably 
 last until the middle or the end of May, according to 
 the size of the audiences. Next season it would go on 
 the road. She wondered if she would be with it. As 
 usual, Miss Osborne, owing to her moderate salary, 
 was for securing a home engagement. 
 
 " They're putting on a summer play at the Casino," 
 she announced, after figuratively putting her ear to the 
 ground. " Let's try and get in that." 
 
 " I'm willing," said Carrie. 
 
 They tried in time and were apprised of the proper 
 date to apply again. That was May i6th. Meanwhile 
 their own show closed May 5th. 
 
 " Those that want to go with the show next season," 
 said the manager, " will have to sign this week." 
 
 " Don't you sign," advised Lola. " I wouldn't 
 go." 
 
 " I know," said Carrie, " but maybe I can't get any- 
 thing else." 
 
 " Well, I won't," said the little girl, who had a re- 
 source in her admirers. " I went once and I didn't 
 have anything at the end of the season." 
 
 Carrie thought this over. She had never been on 
 the road. 
 
 " We can get along," added Lola. " I always have." 
 
 Carrie did not sign. 
 
 The manager who was putting on the summer skit 
 at the Casino had never heard of Carrie* but the several
 
 SISTER CARRIE 491 
 
 notices she had received, her published picture, and 
 the programme bearing her name had some little 
 weight with him. He gave her a silent part at thirty 
 dollars a week. 
 
 " Didn't I tell you ? " said Lola. " It doesn't do you 
 any good to go away from New York. They forget all 
 about you if you do." 
 
 Now, because Carrie was pretty, the gentlemen who 
 made up the advance illustrations of shows about to 
 appear for the Sunday papers selected Carrie's photo 
 along with others to illustrate the announcement. Be- 
 cause she was very pretty, they gave it excellent space 
 and drew scrolls about it. Carrie was delighted. Still, 
 the management did not seem to have seen anything of 
 it. At least, no more attention was paid to her than 
 before. At the same time there seemed very little in 
 her part. It consisted of standing around in all sorts 
 of scenes, a silent little Quakeress. The author of the 
 skit had fancied that a great deal could be made of 
 such a part, given to the right actress, but now, since it 
 had been doled out to Carrie, he would as leave have 
 had it cut out. 
 
 " Don't kick, old man," remarked the manager. " If 
 it don't go the first week we will cut it out." 
 
 Carrie had no warning of this halcyon intention. 
 She practised her part ruefully, feeling that she was 
 effectually shelved. At the dress rehearsal she was 
 disconsolate. 
 
 " That isn't so bad," said the author, the manager 
 noting the curious effect which Carrie's blues had upon 
 the part. " Tell her to frown a little more when Sparks 
 dances." 
 
 Carrie did not know it, but there was the least show 
 of wrinkles between her eyes and her mouth was puck- 
 ered quaintly.
 
 +9 2 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 " Frown a little more, Miss Madenda," said the stagt 
 manager. 
 
 Carrie instantly brightened up, thinking he had 
 meant it as a rebuke. 
 
 " No ; frown," he said. " Frown as you did before." 
 
 Carrie looked at him in astonishment. 
 
 " I mean it," he said. " Frown hard when Mr. Sparks 
 dances. I want to see how it looks." 
 
 It was easy enough to do. Carrie scowled. The 
 effect was something so quaint and droll it caught even 
 the manager. 
 
 " That is good," he said. " If she'll do that all 
 through, I think it will take." 
 
 Going over to Carrie, he said : 
 
 " Suppose you try frowning all through. Do it 
 hard. Look mad. It'll make the part really funny." 
 
 On the opening night it looked to Carrie as if there 
 were nothing to her part, after all. The happy, swel- 
 tering audience did not seem to see her in the first act. 
 She frowned and frowned, but to no effect. Eyes were 
 riveted upon the more elaborate efforts of the stars. 
 
 In the second act, the crowd, wearied by a dull con- 
 versation, roved with its eyes about the stage and 
 sighted her. There she was, grey-suited, sweet-faced, 
 demure, but scowling. At first the general idea was 
 that she was temporarily irritated, that the look was 
 genuine and not fun at all. As she went on frowning, 
 looking now at one principal and now at the other, the 
 audience began to smile. The portly gentlemen in the 
 front rows began to feel that she was a delicious little 
 morsel. It was the kind of frown they would have 
 loved to force away with kisses. All the gentlemen 
 yearned toward her. She was capital. 
 
 At last, the chief comedian, singing in the centre of 
 the stage, noticed a giggle where it was not expected
 
 SISTER CARRIE 493 
 
 Then another and another. When the place came for 
 loud applause it was only moderate. What could be 
 the trouble? He realised that something was up. 
 
 All at once, after an exit, he caught sight of Carrie. 
 She was frowning alone on the stage and the audience 
 was giggling and laughing. 
 
 " By George, I won't stand that ! " thought the thes- 
 pian. " I'm not going to have my work cut up by som< 
 one else. Either she quits that when I do my turn 
 or I quit." 
 
 " Why, that's all right," said the manager, when the 
 kick came. " That's what she's supposed to do. You 
 needn't pay any attention to that." 
 
 " But she ruins my work." 
 
 " No, she don't," returned the former, soothingly. 
 " It's only a little fun on the side." 
 
 "It is, eh?" exclaimed the big comedian. "She 
 killed my hand all right. I'm not going to stand that." 
 
 " Well, wait until after the show. Wait until to- 
 morrow. We'll see what we can do." 
 
 The next act, however, settled what was to be done. 
 Carrie was the chief feature of the play. The audi- 
 ence, the more it studied her, the more it indicated its 
 delight. Every other feature paled beside the quaint, 
 teasing, delightful atmosphere which Carrie contrib- 
 uted while on the stage. Manager and company real' 
 ised she had made a hit. 
 
 The critics of the daily papers completed her tri* 
 umph. There were long notices in praise of the qual- 
 ity of the burlesque, touched with recurrent references 
 to Carrie. The contagious mirth of the thing was 
 repeatedly emphasised. 
 
 "Miss Madenda presents one of the most delightful bits of 
 character work ever seen on the Casino stage," observed the 
 sage critic of the " Sun." " It is a bit of quiet, unassuming droll-
 
 L 
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 cry which warms like good wine. Evidently the part was not in- 
 tended to take precedence, as Miss Madenda is not often on the 
 stage, but the audience, with the characteristic perversity of sucK 
 bodies, selected for itself. The little Quakeress was marked for a 
 favourite the momentshe appeared, and thereafter easily held atten- 
 tion and applause. The vagaries of fortune are indeed curious." 
 
 The critic of the " Evening World," seeking as usual 
 to establish a catch phrase which should " go " with 
 the town, wound up by advising : " If you wish to be 
 merry, see Carrie frown." 
 
 The result was miraculous so far as Carrie's fortune 
 was concerned. Even during the morning she received 
 a congratulatory message from the manager. 
 
 " You seem to have taken the town by storm," he 
 wrote. " This is delightful. I am as glad for your 
 sake as for my own." 
 
 The author also sent word. 
 
 That evening when she entered the theatre the man- 
 ager had a most pleasant greeting for her. 
 
 " Mr. Stevens," he said, referring to the author, " is 
 preparing a little song, which he would like you to 
 sing next week." 
 
 " Oh, I can't sing," returned Carrie. 
 
 " It isn't anything difficult. ' It's something that is 
 very simple,' he says, ' and would suit you exactly.' " 
 
 " Of course, I wouldn't mind trying," said Carrie, 
 archly. 
 
 " Would you mind coming to the box-office a few 
 moments before you dress ? " observed the manager, in 
 Addition. " There's a little matter I want to speak to 
 you about." 
 
 " Certainly," replied Carrie. 
 
 In that latter place the manager produced a paper. 
 
 " Now, of course," he said, " we want to be fair with 
 you in the matter of salary. Your contract here only
 
 SISTER CARRIE 495 
 
 calls for thirty dollars a week for the next three months. 
 How would it do to make it, say, one hundred and fifty 
 ajveek and extend it for twelve months ? " 
 ^OKTveiy "well," said Carrie, scarcely believing her 
 ears. 
 
 " Supposing, then, you just sign this." 
 
 Carrie looked and beheld a new contract made out 
 like the other one, with the exception of the new figures 
 of salary and time. With a hand trembling from ex- 
 citement she affixed her name. 
 
 " One hundred and fifty a week ! " she murmured, 
 when she was again alone. She found, after all as 
 what millionaire has not? that there was no realising, 
 in consciousness, the meaning of large sums. It was 
 only a shimmering, glittering phrase in which lay a 
 world of possibilities. 
 
 Down in third-rate Bleecker Street hotel, the 
 brooding Hurstwood read the dramatic item covering 
 Carrie's success, without at first realising who was 
 meant. Then suddenly it came to him and he read the 
 whole thing over again. 
 
 " That's her, all right, I guess," he said. 
 
 Then he looked about upon a dingy, moth-eaten hotel 
 lobby. 
 
 " I guess she's struck it," he thought, a picture of 
 the old shiny, plush-covered world coming back, with 
 its lights, its ornaments, its carriages, and flowers. 
 Ah, she was in the walled city now ! Its splendid gates 
 had opened, admitting her from a cold, dreary outside. 
 She seemed a creature afar off like every other celeb- 
 rity he had known. 
 
 " Well, let her have it," he said. " I won't bother 
 her.'* 
 
 It was the grim resolution of a bent, bedraggled, but 
 unbroken pride.
 
 CHAPTER XLIV 
 
 AND THIS IS NOT ELF LAND : WHAT GOLD WILL NOT BUY 
 
 When Carrie got back on the stage, she found that 
 over night her dressing-room had been changed. 
 
 " You are to use this room, Miss Madenda," said one 
 of the stage lackeys. 
 
 No longer any need of climbing several flights of 
 steps to a small coop shared with another. Instead, 
 a comparatively large and commodious chamber with 
 conveniences not enjoyed by the small fry overhead. 
 She breathed deeply and with delight. Her sensa- 
 tions were more physical than mental. In fact, she 
 was scarcely thinking at all. Heart and body were 
 having their say. 
 
 Gradually the deference and congratulation gave her 
 a mental appreciation of her state. She was no longer 
 ordered, but requested, and that politely. The other 
 members of the cast looked at her enviously as she 
 came out arrayed in her simple habit, which she wore 
 all through the play. All those who had supposedly 
 been her equals and superiors now smiled the smile of 
 sociability, as much as to say: " How friendly we have 
 always been." Only the star comedian whose part 
 had been so deeply injured stalked by himself. Figu- 
 ratively, he could not kiss the hand that smote him. 
 
 Doing her simple part, Carrie gradually realised the 
 meaning of the applause which was for her, and it was 
 sweet. She felt mildly guilty of something perhaps
 
 SISTER CARRIE 497 
 
 tinworthiness. When her associates addressed her in 
 the wings she only smiled weakly. The pride and 
 daring of place were not for her. It never once crossed 
 her mind to be reserved or haughty to be other than 
 she had been. After the performances she rode to her 
 room with Lola, in a carriage provided. 
 
 Then came a week in which the first fruits of success 
 were offered to her lips bowl after bowl. It did not 
 matter that her splendid salary had not begun. The 
 world seemed satisfied with the promise. She began 
 to get letters and cards. A.Mr. Withers whom she 
 did not know from Adam having learned by some 
 hook or crook where she resided, bowed himself po- 
 litely in. 
 
 " You will excuse me for intruding," he said ; " but 
 have you been thinking of changing your apartments?" 
 
 " I hadn't thought of it," returned Carrie. 
 
 "Well, I am connected with the Wellington the 
 new hotel on Broadway. You have probably seen no- 
 tices of it in the papers." 
 
 Carrie recognised the name as standing for one of 
 the newest and most imposing hostelries. She had 
 heard it spoken of as having a splendid restaurant. 
 
 " Just so," went on Mr. Withers, accepting her ac- 
 knowledgment of familiarity. " We have some very 
 elegant rooms at present which we would like to have 
 you look at, if you have not made up your mind where 
 you intend to reside for the summer. Our apartments 
 are perfect in every detail hot and cold water, private 
 baths, special hall service for every floor, elevators, and 
 all that. You know what our restaurant is." 
 
 Carrie looked at him quietly. She was wondering 
 whether he took her to be a millionaire. 
 
 " What are your rates? " she inquired. 
 
 " Well, now, that is what I came to talk with you
 
 49 8 
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 privately about. Our regular rates are anywhere from 
 three to fifty dollars a day." 
 
 " Mercy ! " interrupted Carrie. " I couldn't pay any 
 such rate as that." 
 
 " I know how you feel about it," exclaimed Mr. 
 Withers, halting. " But just let me explain. I said 
 those are our regular rates. Like every other hotel we 
 make special ones, however. Possibly you have not 
 thought about it, but your name is worth something 
 to us." 
 
 " Oh ! " ejaculated Carrie, seeing at a glance. 
 
 " Of course. Every hotel depends upon the repute 
 of its patrons. A well-known actress like yourself," 
 and he bowed politely, while Carrie flushed, " draws 
 attention to the hotel, and although you may not be- 
 lieve it patrons." 
 
 " Oh, yes," returned Carrie, vacantly, trying to ar- 
 range this curious proposition in her mind. 
 
 " Now," continued Mr. Withers, swaying his derby 
 hat softly and beating one of his polished shoes upon 
 the floor, " I want to arrange, if possible, to have you 
 come and stop at the Wellington. You need not 
 trouble about terms. In fact, we need hardly discuss 
 them. Anything will do for the summer a mere 
 figure anything that you think you could afford to 
 pay." 
 
 Carrie was about to interrupt, but he gave her no 
 chance. 
 
 " You can come to-day or to-morrow the earlier the 
 better and we will give you your choice of nice, light, 
 outside rooms the very best we have." 
 
 " You're very kind," said Carrie, touched by the 
 agent's extreme affability. " I should like to come 
 very much. I would want to pay what is right, how- 
 ever. I shouldn't want to "
 
 SISTER CARRIE 499 
 
 " You need not trouble about that at all," interrupted 
 Mr. Withers. "We can arrange that to your entire 
 satisfaction at any time. If three dollars a day is satis- 
 factory to you, it will be so to us. All you have to do is 
 to pay that sum to the clerk at the end of the week or 
 month, just as you wish, and he will give you a receipt 
 for what the rooms would cost if charged for at our" 
 regular rates." 
 
 The speaker paused. 
 
 " Suppose you come and look at the rooms," he 
 added. 
 
 " I'd be glad to," said Carrie, " but I have a rehearsal 
 this morning." 
 
 " I did not mean at once," he returned. " Any time 
 will do. Would this afternoon be inconvenient? " 
 
 " Not at all," said Carrie. 
 
 Suddenly she rerrfembered Lola, who was out at the 
 time. 
 
 " I have a room-mate," she added, " who will have 
 to go wherever I do. I forgot about that." 
 
 " Oh, very well," said Mr. Withers, blandly. " It is 
 for you to say whom you want with you. As I say, 
 all that can be arranged to suit yourself." 
 
 He bowed and backed toward the door. 
 
 "At four, then, we may expect you?" 
 
 " Yes," said Carrie. 
 
 " I will be there to show you," and so Mr. Withers 
 withdrew. 
 
 After rehearsal Carrie informed Lola. 
 
 " Did they really? " exclaimed the latter, thinking of 
 the Wellington as a group of managers. " Isn't that 
 fine? Oh, jolly! It's so swell. That's where we 
 dined that night we went with those two Gushing boys. 
 Don't you know?" 
 
 " I remember." said Carrie.
 
 500 
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 " Oh, it's as fine as it can be." 
 
 " We'd better be going up there," observed Carrie, 
 later in the afternoon. 
 
 The rooms which Mr. Withers displayed to Carrie 
 and Lola were three and bath a suite on the parlour 
 floor. They were done in chocolate and dark red, with 
 rugs and hangings to match. Three windows looked 
 down into busy Broadway on the east, three into a side 
 street which crossed there. There were two lovely 
 bedrooms, set with brass and white enamel beds, white, 
 ribbon-trimmed chairs and chiffoniers to match. In 
 the third room, or parlour, was a piano, a heavy piano 
 lamp, with a shade of gorgeous pattern, a library table, 
 several huge easy rockers, some dado book shelves, 
 and a gilt curio case, filled with oddities. Pictures 
 were upon the walls, soft Turkish pillows upon the 
 divan, footstools of brown plush upon the floor. Such 
 accommodations would ordinarily cost a hundred dol- 
 lars a week. 
 
 " Oh, lovely ! " exclaimed Lola, walking about. 
 
 " It is comfortable," said Carrie, who was lifting a 
 lace curtain and looking down into crowded Broadway. 
 
 The bath was a handsome affair, done in white 
 enamel, with a large, blue-bordered stone tub and 
 nickel trimmings. It was bright and commodious, 
 with a bevelled mirror set in the wall at one end and 
 incandescent lights arranged in three places. 
 
 "Do you find these satisfactory?" observed Mr. 
 Withers. 
 
 " Oh, very," answered Carrie. 
 
 " Well, then, any time you find it convenient to move 
 in, they are ready. The boy will bring you the keys 
 at the door.'' 
 
 Carrie noted the elegantly carpeted and decorated 
 hall, the marbelled lobby, and showy waiting-room.
 
 SISTER CARRIE 501 
 
 It was such a place as she had often dreamed of 
 occupying. 
 
 " I guess we'd better move right away, don't you 
 think so? " she observed to Lola, thinking of the com- 
 monplace chamber in Seventeenth Street. 
 
 " Oh, by all means," said the latter. 
 
 The next day her trunks left for the new abode. 
 
 Dressing, after the matinee on Wednesday, a knock 
 came at her dressing-room door. 
 
 Carrie looked at the card handed by the boy and suf- 
 fered a shock of surprise. 
 
 " Tell her I'll be right out," she said softly. Then, 
 looking at the card, added : " Airs. Vance." 
 
 " Why, you little sinner," the latter exclaimed, as she 
 saw Carrie coming toward her across the now vacant 
 stage. " How in the world did this happen ? " 
 
 Carrie laughed merrily. There was no trace of em- 
 barrassment in her friend's manner. You would have 
 thought that the long separation had come about acci- 
 dentally. 
 
 " I don't know," returned Carrie, warming, in spite 
 of her first troubled feelings, toward this handsome, good- 
 natured young matron. :;' ? 
 
 " Well, you know, I saw your picture in the Sunday 
 paper, but your name threw me off. I thought it must 
 be you or somebody that looked just like you, and I 
 said : ' Well, now, I will go right down there and see.' 
 I was never more surprised in my life. How are you, 
 anyway? " 
 
 " Oh, very well," returned Carrie. " How have you 
 been?" 
 
 " Fine. But aren't you a success ! Dear, oh ! All 
 the papers talking about you. I should think you 
 would be just too proud to breathe. I was almost 
 afraid to come back here this afternoon."
 
 502 
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 " Oh, nonsense," said Carrie, blushing. " You know 
 I'd be glad to see you." 
 
 " Well, anyhow, here you are. Can't you come up 
 and take dinner with me now? Where are you stop- 
 ping?" 
 
 " At the Wellington," said Carrie, who permitted 
 herself a touch of pride in the acknowledgment. 
 
 "Oh, are you?" exclaimed the other, upon whom 
 *.he name was not without its proper effect. 
 
 Tactfully, Mrs. Vance avoided the subject of Hurst- 
 wood, of whom she could not help thinking. No doubt 
 Carrie had left him. That much she surmised. 
 
 " Oh, I don't think I can," said Carrie, "' to-night. I 
 have so little time. I must be back here by 7.30. 
 Won't you come and dine with me? " 
 
 " I'd be delighted, but I can't to-night," said Mrs. 
 Vance, studying Carrie's fine appearance. The latter's 
 good fortune made her seem more than ever worthy 
 and delightful in the other's eyes. " I promised faith- 
 fully to be home at six." Glancing at the small gold 
 watch pinned to her bosom, she added : " I must be 
 going, too. Tell me when you're coming up, if at all." 
 
 " Why, any time you like," said Carrie. 
 
 " Well, to-morrow then. I'm living at the Chelsea 
 now." 
 
 " Moved again ? " exclaimed Carrie, laughing. 
 
 " Yes. You know I can't stay six months in one place. 
 I just have to move. Remember now half-past 
 five." 
 
 " I won't forget," said Carrie, casting a glance at her 
 as she went away. Then it came to her that she was 
 as good as this woman now perhaps better. Some- 
 thing in the other's solicitude and interest made her 
 feel as if she were the one to condescend. 
 
 Now, as on each preceding day, letters were handed
 
 SISTER CARRIE 503 
 
 her by the doorman at the Casino. This was a feature 
 which had rapidly developed since Monday. What 
 they contained she well knew. Mash notes were old 
 affairs in their mildest form. She remembered having 
 received her first one far back in Columbia City. Since 
 then, as a chorus girl, she had received others gentle- 
 men who prayed for an engagement. They were com- 
 mon sport between her and Lola, who received some 
 also. They both frequently made light of them. 
 
 Now, however, they came thick and fast. Gentle- 
 men with fortunes did not hesitate to note, as an addi- 
 tion to their own amiable collection of virtues, that 
 they had their horses and carriages. Thus one: 
 
 "I have a million in my own right. I could give you every 
 luxury. There isn't anything you could ask for that you couldn't 
 have. I say this, not because- 1 want to speak of my money, but 
 because I love you and wish to gratify your every desire. It is 
 love that prompts me to write. Will you not give me one half- 
 hour in which to plead my cause ? " 
 
 Such of these letters as came while Carrie was still 
 in the Seventeenth Street place were read with more 
 interest though never delight than those which ar- 
 rived after she was installed in her luxurious quarters 
 at the Wellington. Even there her vanity or that 
 self-appreciation which, in its more rabid form, is 
 called vanity was not sufficiently cloyed to make 
 these things wearisome. Adulation, being new in any 
 form, pleased her. Only she was sufficiently wise to 
 distinguish between her old condition and her new one. 
 She had not had fame or money before. Now they 
 had come. She had not had adulation and affectionate 
 propositions before. Now they had come. Where- 
 fore? She smiled to think that men should suddenly 
 find her so much more attractive. In the least way it 
 incited her to coolness and indifference.
 
 504 
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 " Do look here," she remarked to Lola. " See what 
 this man says : ' If you will only deign to grant me one 
 half-hour,' " she repeated, with an imitation of languor. 
 "The idea. Aren't men silly?" 
 
 " He must have lots of money, the way he talks," 
 observed Lola. 
 
 " That's what they all say," said Carrie, innocently. 
 
 " Why don't you see him," suggested Lola, " and 
 hear what he has to say ? " 
 
 " Indeed I won't," said Carrie. " I know what he'd 
 say. I don't want to meet anybody that way." 
 
 Lola looked at her with big, merry eyes. 
 
 " He couldn't hurt you," she returned. " You might 
 have some fun with him." 
 
 Carrie shook her head. 
 
 " You're awfully queer," returned the little, blue- 
 eyed soldier. 
 
 Thus crowded fortune. For this whole week, though 
 her large salary had not yet arrived, it was as if the 
 world understood and trusted her. Without money 
 or the requisite sum, at least she enjoyed the luxuries 
 which money could buy. For her the doors of fine 
 places seemed to open quite without the asking. These 
 palatial chambers, how marvellously they carne to her. 
 The elegant apartments of Mrs. Vance in the Chelsea 
 these were hers. Men sent flowers, love notes, offers 
 of fortune. And still her dreams ran riot. The one 
 hundred and fifty! the one hundred and fifty! What 
 a door to an Aladdin's cave it seemed to be. Each day, 
 her head almost turned by developments, her fancies 
 of what her fortune must be, with ample money, grew 
 and multiplied. She conceived of delights which were 
 not saw lights of joy that never were on land or sea. 
 Then, at last, after a world of anticipation, came her 
 first installment of one hundred and fifty dollars.
 
 SISTER CARRIE 505 
 
 It was paid to her in greenbacks three twenties, 
 six tens, and six fives. Thus collected it made a very 
 convenient roll. It was accompanied by a smile and 
 a salutation from the cashier who paid it. 
 
 " Ah, yes," said the latter, when she applied ; " Miss 
 Madenda one hundred and fifty dollars. Quite a suc- 
 cess the show seems to have made." 
 
 " Yes, indeed," returned Carrie. 
 
 Right after came one of the insignificant members 
 of the company, and she heard the changed tone of 
 address. 
 
 " How much? " said the same cashier, sharply. One, 
 such as she had only recently been, was waiting for her 
 modest salary. It took her back to the few weeks in 
 which she had collected or rather had received al- 
 most with the air of a: domestic, four-fifty per week 
 from a lordly foreman in a shoe factory a man who, in 
 distributing the envelopes, had the manner of a prince 
 doling out favours to a servile group of petitioners. 
 She knew that out in Chicago this very day the same 
 factory chamber was full of poor homely-clad girls 
 working in long lines at clattering machines; that at 
 noon they would eat a miserable lunch in a half-hour; 
 that Saturday they would gather, as they had when she 
 was one of them, and accept the small pay for work a 
 hundred times harder than she was now doing. Oh, 
 it was so easy now! The world was so rosy and 
 bright. She felt so thrilled that she must needs 
 walk back to the hotel to think, wondering what she 
 should do. 
 
 It does not take money long to make plain its im- 
 potence, providing the desires are in the realm of affec- 
 tion. With her one hundred and fifty in hand, Carrie 
 could think of nothing particularly to do. In itself, as 
 a tangible, apparent thing which she could touch and
 
 506 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 look upon, it was a diverting thing for a few days, but 
 this soon passed. Her hotel bill did not require its use. 
 Her clothes had for some time been wholly satisfactory. 
 Another day or two and she would receive another hun- 
 dred and fifty. It began to appear as if this were not 
 so startlingly necessary to maintain her present state. 
 If she wanted to do anything better or move higher she 
 must have more a great deal more. 
 
 Now a critic called to get up one of those tinsel inter- 
 views which shine with clever observations, show up 
 the wit of critics, display the folly of celebrities, and 
 divert the public. He liked Carrie, and said so, pub- 
 licly adding, however, that she was merely pretty, 
 good-natured, and lucky. This cut like a knife. The 
 " Herald," getting up an entertainment for the benefit 
 of its free ice fund, did her the honour to beg her to ap- 
 pear along with celebrities for nothing. She was vis- 
 ited by a young author, who had a play which he 
 thought she could produce. Alas, she could not judge. 
 It hurt her to think it. Then she found she must put 
 her money in the bank for safety, and so moving, finally 
 reached the place where it struck her that the door to 
 life's perfect enjoyment was not open. 
 
 Gradually she began to think it was because it was 
 summer. Nothing was going on much save such en- 
 tertainments as the one in which she was the star. Fifth 
 Avenue was boarded up where the rich had deserted 
 their mansions. Madison Avenue was little better. 
 Broadway was full of loafing thespians in search of next 
 season's engagements. The whole city was quiet and 
 her nights were taken up with her work. Hence the 
 feeling that there wasjittle to do. 
 
 " I don't know," she said to Lola one day, sitting at 
 one of the windows which looked down into Broad- 
 way, " I get lonely; don'"t you?"
 
 SISTER CARRIE 507 
 
 "No," said Lola, "not very often. You won't go 
 anywhere. That's what's the matter with you." 
 
 " Where can I go ? " 
 
 " Why, there're lots of places," returned Lola, who 
 was thinking of her own lightsome tourneys with the 
 gay youths. " You won't go with anybody." 
 
 " I don't want to go with these people who write to 
 me. I know what kind they are." 
 
 " You oughtn't to be lonely," said Lola, thinking of 
 Carrie's success. " There're lots would give their ears 
 to be in your shoes." 
 
 Carrie looked out again at the passing crowd. 
 
 " I don't know," she said. 
 
 Unconsciously her idle hands were beginning to 
 weary. ~~*
 
 CHAPTER XLV 
 
 CURIOUS SHIFTS OF THE POOR 
 
 The gloomy Hurstwood, sitting in his cheap hotel, 
 where he had taken refuge with seventy dollars the 
 price of his furniture between him and nothing, saw 
 a hot summer out and a cool fall in, reading. He was 
 not wholly indifferent to the fact that his money was 
 slipping away. As fifty cents after fifty cents were paid 
 out for a day's lodging he became uneasy, and finally 
 took a cheaper room thirty-five cents a day to make 
 his money last longer. Frequently he saw notices of 
 Carrie. Her picture was in the " World " once or 
 twice, and an old " Herald " he found in a chair in- 
 formed him that she had recently appeared with some 
 others at a benefit for something or other. He read 
 these things with mingled feelings. Each one seemed 
 to put her farther and farther away into a realm which 
 became more imposing as it receded from him. On 
 the bill-boards, too, he saw a pretty poster, showing 
 her as the Quaker Maid, demure and dainty. More 
 than once he stopped and looked at these, gazing at 
 the pretty face in a sullen sort of way. His clothes 
 were shabby, and he presented a marked contrast to 
 all that she now seemed to be. 
 
 Somehow, so long as he knew she was at the Casino, 
 though he had never any intention of going near her, 
 there was a sub-conscious comfort for him he was not 
 quite alone. The show seemed such a fixture that, after 
 a month or two, he began to take it for granted that it
 
 SISTER CARRIE 509 
 
 was still running. In September it went on the road 
 and he did not notice it. When all but twenty dollars 
 of his money was gone, he moved to a fifteen-cent 
 lodging-house in the Bowery, where there was a bare 
 lounging-room filled with tables and benches as well 
 as some chairs. Here his preference was to close his 
 eyes and dream of other days, a habit which grew upon 
 him. It was not sleep at first, but a mental hearkening 
 back to scenes and incidents in his Chicago life. As 
 the present became darker, the past grew brighter, and 
 all that concerned it stood in relief. 
 
 He was unconscious of just how much this habit had 
 hold of him until one day he found his lips repeating 
 an old answer he had made to one of his friends. They 
 were in Fitzgerald and Moy's. It was as if he stood 
 in the door of his elegant little office, comfortably 
 dressed, talking to Sagar Morrison about the value of 
 South Chicago real estate in which the latter was about 
 to invest. 
 
 " How would you like to come in on that with me? " 
 he heard Morrison say. 
 
 " Not me," he answered, just as he had years before. 
 " I have my hands full now." 
 
 The movement of his lips aroused him. He won- 
 dered whether he had really spoken. The next time 
 he noticed anything of the sort he really did talk. 
 
 "Why don't you jump, you bloody fool?" he was 
 saying. " Jump ! " 
 
 It was a funny English story he was telling to a com- 
 pany of actors. Even as his voice recalled him, he was 
 smiling. A crusty old codger, sitting near by, seemed 
 disturbed ; at least, he stared in a most pointed way. 
 Hurstwood straightened up. The humour of the 
 memory fled in an instant and he felt ashamed. For 
 relief, he left his chair and strolled out into the streets.
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 ay, looking down the ad. columns of the 
 " Evening World," he saw where a new play was at 
 the Casino. Instantly, he came to a mental halt. Car- 
 rie had gone ! He remembered seeing a poster of her 
 only yesterday, but no doubt it was one left uncovered 
 by the new signs. Curiously, this fact shook him up. 
 He had almost to admit that somehow he was depend- 
 ing upon her being in the city. Now she was gone. 
 He wondered how this important fact had skipped him. 
 Goodness knows when she would be back now. Im- 
 pelled by a nervous fear, he rose and went into the 
 dingy hall, where he counted his remaining money, un- 
 seen. There were but ten dollars in all. 
 
 He wondered how all these other lodging-house 
 people around him got along. They didn't seem to 
 do anything. Perhaps they begged unquestionably 
 they did. Many was the dime he had given to such 
 as they in his day. He had seen other men asking for 
 money on the streets. Maybe he could get some that 
 way. There was horror in this thought. 
 
 Sitting in the lodging-house room, he came to his 
 last fifty cents. He had saved and counted until his 
 health was affected. His stoutness had gone. With 
 it, even the semblance of a fit in his clothes. Now he 
 decided he must do something, and, walking about, saw 
 another day go by, bringing him down to his last 
 twenty cents not enough to eat for the morrow. 
 
 Summoning all his courage, he crossed to Broadway 
 and up to the Broadway Central hotel. Within a block 
 he halted, undecided. A big, heavy-faced porter was 
 standing at one of the side entrances, looking out. 
 Hurstwood purposed to appeal to him. Walking 
 straight up, he was upon him before he could turn 
 away. 
 
 " My friend," he said, recognising even in his plight
 
 SISTER CARRIE 511 
 
 the man's inferiority, " is there anything about this 
 hotel that I could get to do?" 
 
 The porter stared at him the while he continued to 
 talk. 
 
 " I'm out of work and out of money and I've got 
 to get something it doesn't matter what. I don't 
 care to talk about what I've been, but if you'd tell me 
 how to get something to do, I'd be much obliged to 
 you. It wouldn't matter if it only lasted a few days 
 just now. I've got to have something." 
 
 The porter still gazed, trying to look indifferent. 
 Then, seeing that Hurstwood was about to go on, he 
 said: 
 
 " I've nothing to do with it. You'll have to ask 
 inside." 
 
 Curiously, this stirred Hurstwood to further effort. 
 
 " I thought you might tell me." 
 
 The fellow shook his head irritably. 
 
 Inside went the ex-manager and straight to an office 
 off the clerk's desk. One of the managers of the hotel 
 happened to be there. Hurstwood looked him straight 
 in the eye. 
 
 " Could you give me something to do for a few 
 days ? " he said. " I'm in a position where I have to 
 get something at once." 
 
 The comfortable manager looked at him, as much 
 as to say : "Well, I should judge so." 
 
 " I came here," explained Hurstwood, nervously, 
 " because I've been a manager myself in my day. 
 I've had bad luck in a way, but I'm not here to tell 
 you that. I want something to do, if only for a 
 week." 
 
 The man imagined he saw a feverish gleam in the 
 applicant's eye. 
 
 "What hotel did you manage?" he inquired.
 
 512 
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 " It wasn't a hotel," said Hurstwood. " I was man- 
 ager of Fitzgerald and Moy's place in Chicago for fif- 
 teen years." 
 
 "Is that so?" said the hotel man. "How did you 
 come to get out of that?" 
 
 The figure of Hurstwood was rather surprising in 
 contrast to the fact. 
 
 " Well, by foolishness of my own. It isn't anything 
 to talk about now. You could find out if you wanted 
 to. I'm ' broke ' now and, if you will believe me, I 
 haven't eaten anything to-day." 
 
 The hotel man was slightly interested in this story. 
 He could hardly tell what to do with such a figure, and 
 yet Hurstwood's earnestness made him wish to do 
 something. 
 
 " Call Olsen," he said, turning to the clerk. 
 
 In reply to a bell and a disappearing hall-boy, Olsen, 
 the head porter, appeared. 
 
 " Olsen," said the manager, " is there anything down- 
 stairs you could find for this man to do? I'd like to give 
 him something." 
 
 " I don't know, sir," said Olsen. " We have about 
 all the help we need. I think I could find something, 
 sir, though, if you like." 
 
 "Do. Take him to the kitchen and tell Wilson to 
 give him something to eat." 
 
 "All right, sir," said Olsen. 
 
 Hurstwood followed. Out of the manager's sight, 
 the head porter's manner changed. 
 
 " I don't know what the devil there is to do," he 
 observed. 
 
 Hurstwood said nothing. To him the big trunk 
 hustler was a subject for private contempt. 
 
 " You're to give this man something to eat," he ob- 
 served to the cook.
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 513 
 
 The latter looked Hurstwood over, and seeing some- 
 thing keen and intellectual in his eyes, said : 
 
 " Well, sit down over there." 
 
 Thus was Hurstwood installed in the Broadway Cen- 
 tral, but not for long. He was in no shape or mood 
 to do the scrub work that exists about the foundation 
 of every hotel. Nothing better offering, he was set to 
 aid the fireman, to work about the basement, to do any- 
 thing and everything that might offer. Porters, cooks, 
 firemen, clerks all were over him. Moreover his ap- 
 pearance did not please these individuals his temper 
 was too lonely and they made it disagreeable for him. 
 
 With the stolidity and indifference of despair, how- 
 ever, he endured it all, sleeping in an attic at the roof 
 of the house, eating what the cook gave him, accepting 
 a few dollars a week, which he tried to save. His con- 
 stitution was in no shape to endure. 
 
 One day the following February he was sent on an 
 errand to a large coal company's office. It had been 
 snowing and thawing and the streets were sloppy. He 
 soaked his shoes in his progress and came back feeling 
 dull and weary. All the next day he felt unusually de- 
 pressed and sat about as much as possible, to the irri- 
 tation of those who admired energy in others. 
 
 In the afternoon some boxes were to be moved to 
 make room for new culinary supplies. He was ordered 
 to handle a truck. Encountering a big box, he could 
 not lift it. 
 
 "What's the matter there?" said the head porter. 
 "Can't you handle it?" 
 
 He was straining hard to lift it, but now he quit. 
 
 " No," he said, weakly. 
 
 The man looked at him and saw that he was deathly 
 pale. 
 
 " Not sick, are you? " he asked.
 
 S i 4 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 " I think I am," returned Hurstwood. 
 
 " Well, you'd better go sit down, then." 
 
 This he did, but soon grew rapidly worse. It seemed 
 all he could do to crawl to his room, where he remained 
 for a day. 
 
 " That man Wheeler's sick," reported one of the 
 lackeys to the night clerk. 
 
 " What's the matter with him ? " 
 
 " I don't know. He's got a high fever." 
 
 The hotel physician looked at him. 
 
 " Better send him to Bellevue," he recommended. 
 " He's got pneumonia." 
 
 Accordingly, he was carted away. 
 
 In three weeks the worst was over, but it was nearly 
 the first of May before his strength permitted him to 
 be turned out. Then he was discharged. 
 
 No more weakly looking object ever strolled out into 
 the spring sunshine than the once hale, lusty manager. 
 All his corpulency had fled. His face was thin and 
 pale, his hands white, his body flabby. Clothes and 
 all, he weighed but one hundred and thirty-five pounds. 
 Some old garments had been given him a cheap 
 brown coat and misfit pair of trousers. Also some 
 change and advice. He was told to apply to the 
 charities. 
 
 Again he resorted to the BoAvery lodging-house, 
 brooding over where to look. From this it was but a 
 step to beggary. 
 
 "What can a man do?" he said. "I can't starve." 
 
 His first application was in sunny Second Avenue. 
 A well-dressed man came leisurely strolling toward 
 him out of Sfuyvesant Park. Hurstwood nerved him- 
 self and sidled near. 
 
 " W T ould you mind giving me ten cents?" he said, 
 directly. " I'm in a position where I must ask some one."
 
 SISTER CARRIE 515 
 
 The man scarcely looked at him, but fished in his vest 
 pocket and took out a dime. 
 
 " There you are," he said. 
 
 " Much obliged," said Hurstwood, softly, but the 
 other paid no more attention to him. 
 
 Satisfied with his success and yet ashamed of his 
 situation, he decided that he would only ask for twenty- 
 five cents more, since that would be sufficient. He 
 strolled about sizing up people, but it was long before 
 just the right face and situation arrived. Wlien- he 
 asked, he was refused. Shocked by this result, he took 
 an hour to recover and then asked again. This time 
 a nickel was given him. By the most watchful effort 
 he did get twenty cents more, but it was painful. 
 
 The next day he resorted to the same effort, expe- 
 riencing a variety of rebuffs and one or two generous 
 receptions. At last it crossed his mind that there was 
 a science of faces, and that a man could pick the liberal 
 countenance if he tried. 
 
 It was no pleasure to him, however, this stopping of 
 passers-by. He saw one man taken up for it and now 
 troubled lest he should be arrested. Nevertheless, he 
 went on, vaguely anticipating that indefinite something 
 which is always better. 
 
 It was with a sense of satisfaction, then, that he saw 
 announced one morning the return of the Casino Com- 
 pany, "with Miss Carrie Madenda." He had thought 
 of her often enough in days past. How successful she 
 was how much money she must have ! Even now, 
 however, it took a severe run of ill-luck to decide 
 him to appeal to her. He was truly hungry before he 
 said : 
 
 " I'll ask her. She won't refuse me a few dollars." 
 
 Accordingly, he headed for the Casino one afternoon, 
 passing it several times in an effort to locate the stage
 
 516 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 entrance. Then he sat in Bryant Park, a block away, 
 waiting. " She can't refuse to help me a little," he kept 
 saying to himself. 
 
 Beginning with half-past six, he hovered like a sha- 
 dow about the Thirty-ninth Street entrance, pretend- 
 ing always to be a hurrying pedestrian and yet fearful 
 lest he should miss his object. He was slightly ner- 
 vous, too, now that the eventful hour had arrived ; but 
 being weak and hungry, his ability to suffer was modi- 
 fied. At last he saw that the actors were beginning to 
 arrive, and his nervous tension increased, until it seemed 
 as if he could not stand much more. 
 
 Once he thought he saw Carrie coming and moved 
 forward, only to see that he was mistaken. 
 
 " She can't be long, now," he said to himself, half 
 fearing to encounter her and equally depressed at the 
 thought that she might have gone in by another way. 
 His stomach was so empty that it ached. 
 
 Individual after individual passed him, nearly all well 
 dressed, almost all indifferent. He saw coaches rolling 
 by, gentlemen passing with ladies the evening's merri- 
 ment was beginning in this region of theatres and hotels. 
 
 Suddenly a coach rolled up and the driver jumped 
 down to open the door. Before Hurstwood could act, 
 two ladies flounced across the broad walk and disap- 
 peared in the stage door. He thought he saw Carrie, 
 but it was so unexpected, so elegant and far away, he 
 could hardly tell. He waited a while longer, growing 
 feverish with want, and then seeing that the stage door 
 no longer opened, and that a merry audience was arriv- 
 ing, he concluded it must have been Carrie and turned 
 away. 
 
 " Lord," he said, hastening out of the street into 
 which the more fortunate were pouring, " I've got to 
 get something."
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 517 
 
 At that hour, when Broadway is wont to assume its 
 most interesting aspect, a peculiar individual invari- 
 ably took his stand at the corner of Twenty-sixth Street 
 and Broadway a spot which is also intersected by 
 Fifth Avenue. This was the hour when the theatres 
 were just beginning to receive their patrons. Fire 
 signs announcing the night's amusements blazed on 
 every hand. Cabs and carriages, their lamps gleam- 
 ing like yellow eyes, pattered by. Couples and parties 
 of three and four freely mingled in the common crowd, 
 which poured by in a thick stream, laughing and jest- 
 ing. On Fifth Avenue were loungers a few wealthy 
 strollers, a gentleman in evening dress with his lady 
 on his arm, some clubmen passing from one smoking- 
 room to another. Across I the way the great hotels 
 showed a hundred gleaming windows, their cafes and 
 billiard-rooms filled with a comfortable, well-dressed, 
 and pleasure-loving throng. All about was the night, 
 pulsating with the thoughts of pleasure and exhilara- 
 tion the curious enthusiasm of a great city bent upon 
 finding joy in a thousand different ways. 
 
 This unique individual was no less than an ex-soldier 
 turned religionist, who, having suffered the whips and 
 privations of our peculiar social system, had concluded 
 that his duty to the God which he conceived lay in aid- 
 ing his fellow-man. The form of aid which he chose 
 to administer was entirely original with himself. It 
 consisted of securing a bed for all such homeless way- 
 farers as should apply to him at this particular spot, 
 though he had scarcely the wherewithal to provide a 
 comfortable habitation for himself. 
 
 Taking his place amid this lightsome atmosphere, he 
 would stand, his stocky figure cloaked in a great cape 
 overcoat, his head protected by a broad slouch hat, 
 awaiting the applicants who had in various ways
 
 5I g SISTER CARRIE 
 
 learned the nature of his charity. For a while he would 
 stand alone, gazing like any idler upon an ever-fascinat- 
 ing scene. On the evening in question, a policeman 
 passing saluted him as " captain," in a friendly way. 
 An urchin who had frequently seen him before, 
 stopped to gaze. All others took him for nothing out 
 of the ordinary, save in the matter of dress, and con- 
 ceived of him as a stranger whistling and idling for 
 his own amusement. 
 
 As the first half-hour waned, certain characters ap- 
 peared. Here and there in the passing crowds one 
 might see, now and then, a loiterer edging interestedly 
 near. A slouchy figure crossed the opposite corner and 
 glanced furtively in his direction. Another came down 
 Fifth Avenue to the corner of Twenty-sixth Street, 
 took a general survey, and hobbled off again. Two or 
 three noticeable Bowery types edged along the Fifth 
 Avenue side of Madison Square, but did not venture 
 over. The soldier, in his cape overcoat, walked a short 
 line of ten feet at his corner, to and fro, indifferently 
 whistling. 
 
 As nine o'clock approached, some of the hubbub of 
 the earlier hour passed. The atmosphere of the hotels 
 was not so youthful. The air, too, was colder. On 
 every hand curious figures were moving watchers 
 and peepers, without an imaginary circle, which they 
 seemed afraid to enter a dozen in all. Presently, with 
 the arrival of a keener sense of cold, one figure came 
 forward. It crossed Broadway from out the shadow of 
 Twenty-sixth Street, and, in a halting, circuitous way, 
 arrived close to the waiting figure. There was some- 
 thing shamefaced or diffident about the movement, as 
 if the intention were to conceal any idea of stopping 
 until the very last moment. Then suddenly, close to 
 the soldier, came the halt.
 
 SISTER CARRIE 519 
 
 The captain looked in recognition, but there was no 
 especial greeting. The newcomer nodded slightly and 
 murmured something like one who waits for gifts. The 
 other simply motioned toward the edge of the walk. 
 
 " Stand over there," he said. 
 
 By this the spell was broken. Even while the sol- 
 dier resumed his short, solemn walk, other figures shuf- 
 fled forward. They did not so much as greet the 
 leader, but joined the one, sniffling and hitching and 
 scraping their feet. 
 
 " Cold, ain't it?" 
 
 " I'm glad winter's over." 
 
 " Looks as though it might rain." 
 
 The motley company had increased to jn. One or 
 two knew each other and conversed. Others stood off 
 a few feet, not wishing to be in the crowd and yet not 
 counted out. They were peevish, crusty, silent, eying 
 nothing in particular and moving their feet. 
 
 There would have been talking soon, but the soldier 
 gave them no chance. Counting sufficient to begin, he 
 came forward. 
 
 "Beds, eh, all of you?" 
 
 There was a general shuffle and murmur of approval. 
 
 " Well, line up here. I'll see what I can do. I 
 haven't a cent myself." 
 
 They fell into a sort of broken, ragged line.. One 
 might see, now, some of the chief characteristics by 
 contrast. There was a wooden leg in the line. Hats 
 were all drooping, a group that would ill become 
 a second-hand Hester Street basement collection. 
 Trousers were all warped and frayed at the bottom 
 and coats worn and faded. In the glare of the store 
 lights, some of the faces looked dry and chalky ; others 
 were red with blotches and puffed in the cheeks and 
 under the eyes ; one or two were rawboned and reminded
 
 520 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 one of railroad hands. A few spectators came near, 
 drawn by the seemingly conferring group, then more 
 and more, and quickly there was a pushing, gaping 
 crowd. Some one in the line began to talk. 
 
 " Silence ! " exclaimed the captain. " Now, then, 
 gentlemen, these men are without beds. They have to 
 have some place to sleep to-night. They can't lie out 
 in the streets. I need twelve cents to put one of them 
 to bed. Who will give it to me? " 
 
 No reply. 
 
 " Well, we'll have to wait here, boys, until some one 
 does. Twelve cents isn't so very much for one man." 
 
 " Here's fifteen," exclaimed a young man, peering 
 forward with strained eyes. " It's all I can afford." 
 
 "All right. Now I have fifteen. Step out of the 
 line," and seizing one by the shoulder, the captain 
 marched him off a little way and stood him up alone. 
 
 Coming back, he resumed his place and began 
 again. 
 
 " I have three cents left. These men must be put 
 to bed somehow. There are " counting " one, two, 
 three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, 
 twelve men. Nine cents more will put the next man 
 to bed ; give him a good, comfortable bed for the night. 
 I go right along and look after that myself. Who will 
 give me nine cents? " 
 
 One of the watchers, this time a middle-aged man, 
 handed him a five-cent piece. 
 
 " Now, I have eight cents. Four more will give this 
 man a bed. Come, gentlemen. We are going very 
 slow this evening. You all have good beds. How 
 about these?" 
 
 " Here you are," remarked a bystander, putting a 
 coin into his hand. 
 
 " That," said the captain, looking at the coin, " pays
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 521 
 
 for two beds for two men and gives me five on the next 
 one. Who will give me seven cents more ? " 
 
 " I will," said a voice. 
 
 Coming down Sixth Avenue this evening, Hurst- 
 wood chanced to cross east through Twenty-sixth 
 Street toward Third Avenue. He was wholly dis- 
 consolate in spirit, hungry to what he deemed an al- 
 most mortal extent, weary, and defeated. How should 
 he get at Carrie now? It would be eleven before the 
 show was over. If she came in a coach, she would go 
 away in one. He would need to interrupt under most 
 trying circumstances. Worst of all, he was hungry 
 and weary, and at best a whole day must intervene, for 
 he had not heart to try again to-night. He had no food 
 and no bed. 
 
 When he neared Broadway, he noticed the captain's 
 gathering of wanderers, but thinking it to be the result 
 of a street preacher or some patent medicine fakir, was 
 about to pass on. However, in crossing the street to- 
 ward Madison Square Park, he noticed the line of men 
 whose beds were already secured, stretching out from 
 the main body of the crowd. In the glare of the neigh- 
 bouring electric light he recognised a type of his own 
 kind the figures whom he saw about the streets and 
 in the lodging-houses, drifting in mind and body like 
 himself. He wondered what it could be and turned 
 back. 
 
 There was the captain curtly pleading as before. 
 He heard with astonishment and a sense of relief the 
 oft-repeated words : " These men must have a bed." 
 Before him was the line of unfortunates whose beds 
 were yet to be had, and seeing a newcomer quietly 
 edge up and take a position at the end of the line, he 
 decided to do likewise. What use to contend? He 
 was weary to-night. It was a simple way out of one
 
 522 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 difficulty, at least. To-morrow, maybe, he would do 
 better. 
 
 Back of him, where some of those were whose beds 
 were safe, a relaxed air was apparent. The strain of 
 uncertainty being removed, he heard them talking with 
 moderate freedom and some leaning toward sociability. 
 Politics, religion, thestateof the government, some news- 
 paper sensations, and the more notorious facts the world 
 over, found mouthpieces and auditors there. Cracked 
 and husky voices pronounced forcibly upon odd matters. 
 Vague and rambling observations were made in reply. 
 
 There were squints, and leers, and some dull, ox- 
 like stares from those who were too dull or too weary 
 to converse. 
 
 Standing tells. Hurstwood became more weary 
 waiting. He thought he should drop soon and shifted 
 restlessly from one foot to the other. At last his turn 
 came. The man ahead had been paid for and gone to 
 the blessed line of success. He was now first, and 
 already the captain was talking for him. 
 
 "Twelve cents, gentlemen twelve cents puts this 
 man to bed. He wouldn't stand here in the cold if he 
 had any place to go." 
 
 Hurstwood swallowed something that rose to his 
 throat. Hunger and weakness had made a coward of 
 him. 
 
 " Here you are," said a stranger, handing money to 
 the captain. 
 
 Now the latter put a kindly hand on the ex-manager's 
 shoulder. 
 
 " Line up over there," he said. 
 
 Once there, Hurstwood breathed easier. He felt as 
 if the world were not quite so bad with such a good 
 man in it. Others seemed to feel like himself about 
 this.
 
 SISTER CARRIE 523 
 
 "Captain's a great feller, ain't he?" said the man 
 ahead a little, woe-begone, helpless-looking sort of 
 individual, who looked as though he had ever been the 
 sport and care of fortune. 
 
 " Yes," said Hurstwood, indifferently. 
 
 " Huh ! there's a lot back there yet," said a man 
 farther up, leaning out and looking back at the appli- 
 cants for whom the captain was pleading. 
 
 " Yes. Must be over a hundred to-night," said an- 
 other. 
 
 " Look at the guy in the cab," observed a third. 
 
 A cab had stopped. Some gentleman in evening 
 dress reached out a bill to the captain, who took it with 
 simple thanks and turned away to his line. There was 
 a general craning of necks as the jewel in the white shirt 
 front sparkled and the cab moved off. Even the crowd 
 gaped in awe. 
 
 " That fixes up nine men for the night," said the 
 captain, counting out as many of the line near him. 
 " Line up over there. Now, then, there are only seven. 
 I need twelve cents." 
 
 Money came slowly. In the course of time the 
 crowd thinned out to a meagre handful. Fifth Avenue, 
 save for an occasional cab or foot passenger, was bare. 
 Broadway was thinly peopled with pedestrians. Only 
 now and then a stranger passing noticed the small group, 
 handed out a coin, and went away, unheeding. 
 
 The captain remained stolid and determined. He 
 talked on, very slowly, uttering the fewest words and 
 with a certain assurance, as though he could not fail. 
 
 " Come ; I can't stay out here all night. These men are 
 getting tired and cold. Some one give me four cents." 
 
 There came a time when he said nothing at all. 
 Money was handed him, and for each twelve cents he 
 singled out a man and put him in the other line. Then
 
 524 
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 he walked up and down as before, looking at the 
 ground. 
 
 The theatres let out. Fire signs disappeared. A 
 clock struck eleven. Another half-hour and he was 
 down to the last two men. 
 
 " Come, now," he exclaimed to several curious ob- 
 servers; "eighteen cents will fix us all up for the 
 night. Eighteen cents. I have six. Somebody give 
 me the money. Remember, I have to go over to Brook- 
 lyn yet to-night. Before that I have to take these men 
 down and put them to bed. Eighteen cents." 
 
 No one responded. He walked to and fro, looking 
 down for several minutes, occasionally saying softly : 
 " Eighteen cents." It seemed as if this paltry sum 
 would delay the desired culmination longer than all 
 the rest had. Hurstwood, buoyed up slightly by the 
 long line of which he was a part, refrained with an 
 effort from groaning, he was so weak. 
 
 At last a lady in opera cape and rustling skirts came 
 down Fifth Avenue, accompanied by her escort. Hurst- 
 wood gazed wearily, reminded by her both of Carrie 
 in her new world and of the time when he had escorted 
 his own wife in like manner. 
 
 While he was gazing, she turned and, looking at the 
 remarkable company, sent her escort over. He came, 
 holding a bill in his fingers, all elegant and graceful. 
 
 " Here you are," he said. 
 
 " Thanks," said the captain, turning to the two re- 
 maining applicants. " Now we have some for to- 
 morrow night," he added. 
 
 Therewith he lined up the last two and proceeded to 
 the head, counting as he went. 
 
 " One hundred and thirty-seven," he announced. 
 " Now, boys, line up. Right dress there. We won't 
 be much longer about this. Steady, now."
 
 SISTER CARRIE 525 
 
 He placed himself at the head and called out "For- 
 ward/' Hurstwood moved with the line. Across 
 Fifth Avenue, through Madison Square by the wind- 
 ing paths, east on Twenty-third Street, and down Third 
 Avenue wound the long, serpentine company. Mid- 
 night pedestrians and loiterers stopped and stared as 
 *the company passed. Chatting policemen, at various 
 corners, stared indifferently or nodded to the leader, 
 whom they had seen before. On Third Avenue they 
 marched, a seemingly weary way, to Eighth Street, 
 where there was a lodging-house, closed, apparently, 
 for the night. They were expected, however. 
 
 Outside in the gloom /they stood, while the leader 
 parleyed within. Then doors swung open and they 
 were invited in with a " Steady, now." 
 
 Some one was at the head showing rooms, so that 
 there was no delay for keys. Toiling up the creaky 
 stairs, Hurstwood looked back and saw the captain, 
 watching; the last one of the line being included in his 
 broad solicitude. Then he gathered his cloak about 
 him and strolled out into the night. 
 
 " I can't stand much of this," said Hurstwood, whose 
 legs ached him painfully, as he sat down upon the 
 miserable bunk in the small, lightless chamber allotted 
 to him. " I've got to eat, or I'll die."
 
 CHAPTER XLVI 
 
 STIRRING TROUBLED WATERS 
 
 Playing in New York one evening on this her return, 
 Carrie was putting the finishing touches to her toilet 
 before leaving for the night, when a commotion near 
 the stage door caught her ear. It included a familiar 
 voice. 
 
 " Never mind, now. I want to see Miss Madenda." 
 
 " You'll have to send in your card." 
 
 " Oh, come off ! Here." 
 
 A half-dollar was passed over, and now a knock came 
 at her dressing-room door. 
 
 Carrie opened it. 
 
 " Well, well ! " said Drouet. I do swear ! Why, how 
 are you ? I knew that was you the moment I saw you." 
 
 Carrie fell back a pace, expecting a most embarrass- 
 ing conversation. 
 
 "Aren't you going to shake hands with me? Well, 
 you're a dandy ! That's all right, shake hands." 
 
 Carrie put out her hand, smiling, if for nothing more 
 than the man's exuberant good-nature. Though older, 
 he was but slightly changed. The same fine clothes, the 
 same stocky body, the same rosy countenance. 
 
 " That fellow at the door there didn't want to let me 
 in, until I paid him. I knew it was you, all right. Say, 
 you've got a great show. You do your part fine. I 
 knew you would. I just happened to be passing to- 
 night and thought I'd drop in for a few minutes. I saw
 
 SISTER CARRIE 527 
 
 your name on the programme, but I didn't remember 
 it until you came on the stage. Then it struck me all 
 at once. Say, you could have knocked me down with 
 a feather. That's the same name you used out there 
 in Chicago, isn't it? " 
 
 " Yes," answered Carrie, mildly, overwhelmed by 
 the man's assurance. 
 
 " I knew it was, the moment I saw you. Well, how 
 have you been, anyhow?" 
 
 " Oh, very well," said Carrie, lingering in her dress- 
 ing-room. She was rather dazed by the assault. " How 
 have you been ? " 
 
 "Me? Oh, fine. I'm here now." 
 
 " Is that so ? " said Carrie. 
 
 "Yes. I've been here for six months. I've got 
 charge of a branch here." 
 
 " How nice ! " 
 
 "Well, when did you go on the stage, anyhow?" 
 inquired Drouet. 
 
 " About three years ago," said Carrie. 
 
 " You don't say so ! Well, sir, this is the first I've 
 heard of it. I knew you would, though. I always 
 said you could act didn't I ? " 
 
 Carrie smiled. 
 
 " Yes, you did," she said. 
 
 " Well, you do look great," he said. " I never saw 
 anybody improve so. You're taller, aren't you ? " 
 
 "Me? Oh, a little, maybe." 
 
 He gazed at her dress, then at her hair, where a be- 
 coming hat was set jauntily, then into her eyes, which 
 she took all occasion to avert. Evidently he expected 
 to restore their old friendship at once and without 
 modification. 
 
 "Well," he said, seeing her gather up her purse, 
 handkerchief, and the like, preparatory to departing.
 
 528 
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 " I want you to come out to dinner with me ; won't 
 you? I've got a friend out here." 
 
 " Oh, I can't," said Carrie. " Not to-night. I have 
 an early engagement to-morrow." 
 
 " Aw, let the engagement go. Come on. I can get 
 rid of him. I want to have a good talk with you." 
 
 " No, no," said Carrie ; " I can't. You mustn't ask 
 me any more. I don't care for a late dinner." 
 
 " Well, come on and have a talk, then, anyhow." 
 
 " Not to-night," she said, shaking her head. " We'll 
 have a talk some other time." 
 
 As a result of this, she noticed a shade of thought 
 pass over his face, as if he were beginning to realise 
 that things were changed. Good-nature dictated some- 
 thing better than this for one who had always liked her. 
 
 " You come around to the hotel to-morrow," she said, 
 as sort of penance for error. " You can take dinner 
 with me." 
 
 " All right," said Drouet, brightening. " Where are 
 you stopping? " 
 
 " At the Waldorf," she answered, mentioning the 
 fashionable hostelry then but newly erected. 
 
 "What time?" 
 
 " Well, come at three," said Carrie, pleasantly. 
 
 The next day Drouet called, but it was with no es- 
 pecial delight that Carrie remembered her appoint- 
 ment. However, seeing him, handsome as ever, after 
 his kind, and most genially disposed, her doubts as to 
 whether the dinner would be disagreeable were swept 
 away. He talked as volubly as ever. 
 
 "They put on a lot of lugs here, don't they?" was 
 his first remark. 
 
 " Yes ; they do," said Carrie. 
 
 Genial egotist that he was, he went at once into a 
 detailed account of his own career.
 
 SISTER CARRIE 529 
 
 " I'm going to have a business of my own pretty 
 soon," he observed in one place. " I can get backing 
 for two hundred thousand dollars." 
 
 Carrie listened most good-naturedly. 
 
 "Say," he said, suddenly; "where is Hurstwood 
 now ? " 
 
 Carrie flushed a little. 
 
 " He's here in New York, I guess," she said. " I 
 haven't seen him for some time." 
 
 Drouet mused for a moment. He had not been sure 
 until now that the ex-manager was not an influential 
 figure in the background. He imagined not ; but this 
 assurance relieved him. It must be that Carrie had 
 got rid of him as well she ought, he thought. 
 
 " A man always makes a mistake when he does any- 
 thing like that," he observed. 
 
 "Like what?" said Carrie, unwitting of what was 
 coming. 
 
 " Oh, you know," and Drouet waved her intelligence, 
 as it were, with his hand. 
 
 " No, I don't," she answered. " What do you mean ? " 
 
 " Why that affair in Chicago the time he left." 
 
 " I don't know what you are talking about," said 
 Carrie. Could it be he would refer so rudely to Hurst- 
 wood's flight with her? 
 
 " Oho ! " said Drouet, incredulously. " You knew 
 he took ten thousand dollars with him when he left, 
 didn't you?" 
 
 " What ! " said Carrie. " You don't mean to say he 
 stole money, do you? " 
 
 " Why," said Drouet, puzzled at her tone, " you knew 
 that, didn't you? " 
 
 " Why, no," said Carrie. " Of course I didn't." 
 
 " Well, that's funny," said Drouet. " He did, you 
 know. It was in all the papers."
 
 530 
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 " How much did you say he took? " said Carrie. 
 
 " Ten thousand dollars. I heard he sent most of it 
 back afterwards, though." 
 
 Carrie looked vacantly at the richly carpeted floor. 
 A new light was shining upon all the years since 
 her enforced flight. She remembered now a hundred 
 things that indicated as much. She also imagined that 
 he took it on her account. Instead of hatred springing 
 up there was a kind of sorrow generated. Poor fellow ! 
 What a thing to have had hanging over his head all the 
 time. 
 
 At dinner Drouet, warmed up by eating and drink- 
 ing and softened in mood, fancied he was winning Car- 
 rie to her old-time good-natured regard for him. He 
 began to imagine it would not be so difficult to enter 
 into her life again, high as she was. Ah, what a prize ! 
 he thought. How beautiful, how elegant, how famous ! 
 In her theatrical and Waldorf setting, Carrie was to 
 him the all-desirable. 
 
 " Do you remember how nervous you were that night 
 at the Avery ? " he asked. 
 
 Carrie smiled to think of it. 
 
 " I never saw anybody do better than you did then, 
 Cad," he added ruefully, as he leaned an elbow on the 
 table ; " I thought you and I were going to get along 
 fine those days." 
 
 " You mustn't talk that way," said Carrie, bringing 
 in the least touch of coldness. 
 
 " Won't you let me tell you " 
 
 " No," she answered, rising. " Besides, it's time I 
 was getting ready for the theatre. I'll have to leave 
 you. Come, now." 
 
 " Oh, stay a minute," pleaded Drouet. " You've got 
 plenty of time." 
 
 " No," said Carrie, gently.
 
 SISTER CARRIE 531 
 
 Reluctantly Drouet gave up the bright table and 
 followed. He saw her to the elevator and, standing 
 there, said : 
 
 " When do I see you again? " 
 
 " Oh, some time, possibly," said Carrie. " I'll be 
 here all summer. Good-night ! " 
 
 The elevator door was open. 
 
 " Good-night ! " said Drouet, as she rustled in. 
 
 Then he strolled sadly down the hall, all his old long- 
 ing revived, because she was now so far off. The 
 merry frou-frou of the place spoke all of her. He 
 thought himself hardly dealt with. Carrie, however, 
 had other thoughts. , 
 
 That night it was that she passed Hurstwood, wait- 
 ing at the Casino, without observing him. 
 
 The next night, walking to the theatre, she encoun- 
 tered him face to face. He was waiting, more gaunt 
 than ever, determined to see her, if he had to send in 
 word. At first she did not recognise the shabby, 
 baggy figure. He frightened her, edging so close, a 
 seemingly hungry stranger. 
 
 " Carrie," he half whispered, " can I have a few 
 words with you?" 
 
 She turned and recognised him on the instant. If 
 there ever had lurked any feeling in her heart against 
 him, it deserted her now. Still, she remembered what 
 Drouet said about his having stolen the money. 
 
 " Why, George," she said ; " what's the matter with 
 you ? " 
 
 " I've been sick," he answered. " I've just got out of 
 the hospital. For God's sake, let me have a little 
 money, will you ? " 
 
 " Of course," said Carrie, her lip trembling in a 
 strong effort to maintain her composure. " But what's 
 the matter with you, anyhow? "
 
 53 2 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 She was opening her purse, and now pulled out all 
 the bills in it a five and two twos. 
 
 " I've been sick, I told you," he said, peevishly, al- 
 most resenting her excessive pity. It came hard to 
 him to receive it from such a source. 
 
 " Here," she said. " It's all I have with me." 
 
 " All right," he answered, softly. " I'll give it back 
 to you some day." 
 
 Carrie looked at him, while pedestrians stared at her. 
 She felt the strain of publicity. So did Hurstwood. 
 
 " Why don't you tell me what's the matter with 
 you ? " she asked, hardly knowing what to do. " Where 
 are you living? " 
 
 " Oh, I've got a room down in the Bowery," he an- 
 swered. " There's no use trying to tell you here. I'm 
 all right now." 
 
 He seemed in a way to resent her kindly inquiries 
 so much better had fate dealt with her. 
 
 " Better go on in," he said. " I'm much obliged, but 
 I won't bother you any more." 
 
 She tried to answer, but he turned away and shuffled 
 off toward the east. 
 
 For days this apparition was a drag on her soul be- 
 fore it began to wear partially away. Drouet called 
 again, but now he was not even seen by her. His 
 attentions seemed out of place. 
 
 " I'm out," was her reply to the boy. 
 
 So peculiar, indeed, was her lonely, self-withdrawing 
 temper, that she was becoming an interesting figure in 
 the public eye she was so quiet and reserved. 
 
 Not long after the management decided to transfer 
 the show to London. A second summer season did 
 not seem to promise well here. 
 
 "How would you like to try subduing London?" 
 asked her manager, one afternoon.
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 533 
 
 " It might be just the other way," said Carrie. 
 
 " I think we'll go in June," he answered. 
 
 In the hurry of departure, Hurstwood was forgotten. 
 Both he and Drouet were left to discover that she was 
 gone. The latter called once, and exclaimed at the news. 
 Then he stood in the lobby, chewing the ends of his 
 moustache. At last he reached a conclusion the old 
 days had gone for good. 
 
 " She isn't so much," he said ; but in his heart of 
 hearts he did not believe this. 
 
 Hurstwood shifted by curious means through a long 
 summer and fall. A small job as janitor of a dance 
 hall helped him for a month. Begging, sometimes 
 going hungry, sometimes sleeping in the park, carried 
 him over more days. Resorting to those peculiar 
 charities, several of which, in the press of hungry 
 search, he accidentally stumbled upon, did the rest. 
 Toward the dead of winter, Carrie came back, appear- 
 ing on Broadway in a new play ; but he was not aware 
 of it. For weeks he wandered about the city, begging, 
 while the fire sign, announcing her engagement, 
 blazed nightly upon the crowded street of amusements. 
 Drouet saw it, but did not venture in. **** 
 
 About this time Ames returned to New York. He 
 had made a little success in the West, and now opened 
 a laboratory in Wooster Street. Of course, he encoun- 
 tered Carrie through Mrs. Vance ; but there was noth- 
 ing responsive between them. He thought she was 
 still united to Hurstwood, until otherwise informed. 
 Not knowing the facts then, he did not profess to 
 understand, and refrained from comment. 
 
 With Mrs. Vance, he saw the new play, and ex- 
 pressed himself accordingly. 
 
 " She ought not to be in comedy," he said. " I think 
 she could do better than that."
 
 
 534 
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 One afternoon they met at the Vances' accidentally, 
 and began a very friendly conversation. She could 
 hardly tell why the one-time keen interest in him was 
 no longer with her. Unquestionably, it was because 
 at that time he had represented something which she 
 did not have ; but this she did not understand. Success 
 had given her the momentary feeling that she was now 
 blessed with much of which he would approve. As a 
 matter of fact, her little newspaper fame was nothing 
 at all to him. He thought she could have done better, 
 by far. 
 
 "You didn't go into comedy-drama, after all?" he 
 said, remembering her interest in that form of art. 
 
 " No," she answered ; " I haven't, so far." 
 
 He looked at her in such a peculiar way that she 
 realised she had failed. It moved her to add : " I want 
 to, though." 
 
 " I should think you would," he said. " You have 
 the sort of disposition that would do well in comedy- 
 drama." 
 
 It surprised her that he should speak of disposition. 
 Was she, then, so clearly in his mind? 
 
 "Why? "she asked. 
 
 " Well," he said, " I should judge you were rather 
 sympathetic in your nature." 
 
 Carrie smiled and coloured slightly. He was so in- 
 nocently frank with her that she drew nearer in friend- 
 ship. The old call of the ideal was sounding. 
 
 " I don't know," she answered, pleased, nevertheless, 
 beyond all concealment. 
 
 " I saw your play," he remarked. " It's very good." 
 
 " I'm glad you liked it." 
 
 " Very good, indeed," he said, " for a comedy." 
 
 This is all that was said at the time, owing to an in- 
 terruption, but later they met again. He was sitting
 
 SISTER CARRIE 535 
 
 in a corner after dinner, staring at the floor, when Carrie 
 came up with another of the guests. Hard work had 
 given his face the look of one who is weary. It was not 
 for Carrie to know the thing in it which appealed to her. 
 
 "All alone? " she said. 
 
 " I was listening to the music." 
 
 " I'll be back in a moment," said her companion, who 
 saw nothing in the inventor. 
 
 Now he looked up in her face, for she was standing 
 a moment, while he sat. 
 
 " Isn't that a pathetic strain? " he inquired, listening. 
 
 " Oh, very," she returned, also catching it, now that 
 her attention was called. 
 
 " Sit down," he added, offering her the chair beside 
 him. 
 
 They listened a few moments in silence, touched by 
 the same feeling, only hers reached her through the 
 heart. Music still charmed her as in the old days. 
 
 " I don't know what it is about music," she started 
 to say, moved by the inexplicable longings which, 
 surged within her ; " but it always makes me feel as if 
 I wanted something I " 
 
 " Yes," he replied ; " I know how you feel." 
 
 Suddenly he turned to considering the peculiarity 
 of her disposition, expressing her feelings so frankly. 
 
 " You ought not to be melancholy," he said. 
 
 He thought a while, and then went off into a seem- 
 ingly alien observation which, however, accorded with 
 their feelings. 
 
 " The world is full of desirable situations, but, un- 
 fortunately, we can occupy but one at a time. It 
 doesn't do us any good to wring our hands over the far- 
 off things." 
 
 The music ceased and he arose, taking a standing 
 position before her, as if to rest himself.
 
 536 
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 " Why don't you get into some good, strong comedy- 
 drama? " he said. He was looking directly at her now, 
 studying her face. Her large, sympathetic eyes and 
 pain-touched mouth appealed to him as proofs of his 
 judgment. 
 
 " Perhaps I shall," she returned. 
 
 " That's your field," he added. 
 
 " Do you think so? " 
 
 " Yes," he said ; " I do. I don't suppose you're aware 
 of it, but there is something about your eyes and mouth 
 which fits you for that sort of work." 
 
 Carrie thrilled to be taken so seriously. For the 
 moment, loneliness deserted her. Here was praise 
 which was keen and analytical. 
 
 " It's in your eyes and mouth," he went on abstract- 
 edly. " I remember thinking, the first time I saw you, 
 that there was something peculiar about your mouth. 
 I thought you were about to cry." 
 
 " How odd," said Carrie, warm with delight. This 
 was what her heart craved. 
 
 " Then I noticed that that was your natural look, 
 and to-night I saw it again. There's a shadow about 
 your eyes, too, which gives your face much this same 
 character. It's in the depth of them, I think." 
 
 Carrie looked straight into his face, wholly aroused. 
 
 " You probably are not aware of it," he added. 
 
 She looked away, pleased that he should speak thus, 
 longing to be equal to this feeling written upon her 
 countenance. It unlocked the door to a new desire. 
 
 She had cause to ponder over this until they met 
 again several weeks or more. It showed her she was 
 drifting away from the old ideal which had filled her 
 in the dressing-rooms of the Avery stage and there- 
 after, for a long time. Why had she lost it? 
 
 " I know why you should be a success," he said, an-
 
 SISTER CARRIE 537 
 
 other time, "if you had a more dramatic part. I've 
 studied it out " 
 
 " What is it? " said Carrie. 
 
 " Well," he said, as one pleased with a puzzle, " the 
 expression in your face is one that comes out in dif- 
 ferent things. You get the same thing in a pathetic 
 song, or any picture which moves you deeply. It's a 
 thing the world likes to see, because it's a natural ex- 
 pression of its longing." 
 
 Carrie gazed without exactly getting the import ol 
 what he meant. 
 
 " The world is always struggling to express itself,'* 
 he went on. " Most people are not capable of voicing 
 their feelings. They depend upon others. That is 
 what genius is for. One man expresses their desires 
 for them in music ; another one in poetry ; another one 
 in a play. Sometimes nature does it in a face it makes 
 the face representative of all desire. That's what has 
 happened in your case." 
 
 He looked at her with so much of the import of the 
 thing in his eyes that she caught it. At least, she 
 got the idea that her look was something which repre- 
 sented the world's longing. She took it to heart as a 
 creditable thing, until he added : 
 
 " That puts a burden of duty on you. It so happens 
 that you have this thing. It is no credit to you that 
 is, I mean, you might not have had it. You paid noth- 
 ing to get it. But now that you have it, you must do 
 something with it." 
 
 "What? "asked Carrie. 
 
 " I should say, turn to the dramatic field. You have 
 so much sympathy and such a melodious voice. Make 
 them valuable to others. It will make your powers 
 endure." 
 
 Carrie did not understand this last. All the rest
 
 538 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 showed her that her comedy success was little or 
 nothing. 
 
 " What do you mean ? " she asked. 
 
 "Why, just this. You have this quality in your 
 eyes and mouth and in your nature. You can lose it, 
 you know. If you turn away from it and live to satisfy 
 yourself alone, it will go fast enough. The look will 
 leave your eyes. Your mouth will change. Your 
 power to act will disappear. You may think they 
 won't, but they will. Nature takes care of that." 
 
 He was so interested in forwarding all good causes 
 that he sometimes became enthusiastic, giving vent to 
 these preachments. Something in Carrie appealed to 
 him. He wanted to stir her up. 
 
 " I know," she said, absently, feeling slightly guilty 
 of neglect. 
 
 " If I were you," he said, " I'd change." 
 
 The effect of this was like roiling helpless waters. 
 Carrie troubled over it in her rocking-chair for days. 
 
 " I don't believe I'll stay in comedy so very much 
 longer," she eventually remarked to Lola. 
 
 " Oh, why not? " said the latter. 
 
 " I think," she said, " I can do better in a serious play." 
 
 " What put that idea in your head? " 
 
 " Oh, nothing," she answered ; " I've always thought 
 so." 
 
 Still, she did nothing grieving. It was a long way 
 to this better thing or seemed so and comfort was 
 about her ; hence the inactivity and longing.
 
 CHAPTER XLVII 
 
 THE WAY OF THE BEATEN : A HARP IN THE WIND 
 
 In the city, at that time, there were a number of 
 charities similar in nature to that of the captain's, which 
 Hurstwood now patronised in a like unfortunate way. 
 One was a convent mission-house of the Sisters of 
 Mercy in Fifteenth Street a row of red brick family 
 dwellings, before the door of which hung a plain 
 wooden contribution box, on which was painted the 
 statement that every noon a meal was given free to all 
 those who might apply and ask for aid. This simple 
 announcement was modest in the extreme, covering, 
 as it did, a charity so broad. Institutions and chari- 
 ties are so large and so numerous in New York that 
 such things as this are not often noticed by the more 
 comfortably situated. But to one whose mind is upon 
 the matter, they grow exceedingly under inspection. 
 Unless one were looking up this matter in particular, 
 he could have stood at Sixth Avenue and Fifteenth 
 Street for days around the noon hour and never have 
 noticed that out of the vast crowd that surged along 
 that busy thoroughfare there turned out, every few 
 seconds, some weather-beaten, heavy-footed specimen 
 of humanity, gaunt in countenance and dilapidated in 
 the matter of clothes. The fact is none the less true, 
 however, and the colder the day the more apparent it 
 became. Space and a lack of culinary room in the 
 mission-house, compelled an arrangement which per-
 
 540 
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 mitted of only twenty-five or thirty eating at one time, 
 so that a line had to be formed outside and an orderly 
 entrance effected. This caused a daily spectacle which, 
 however, had become so common by repetition during 
 a number of years that now nothing was thought of it. 
 The men waited patiently, like cattle, in the coldest 
 weather waited for several hours before they could 
 be admitted. No questions were asked and no service 
 rendered. They ate and went away again, some of 
 them returning regularly day after day the winter 
 through. 
 
 A big, motherly looking woman invariably stood guard 
 at the door during the entire operation and counted the 
 admissible number. The men moved up in solemn 
 order. There was no haste and no eagerness dis- 
 played. It was almost a dumb procession. In the bit- 
 terest weather this line was to be found here. Under 
 an icy wind there was a prodigious slapping of hands 
 and a dancing of feet. Fingers and the features of the 
 face looked as if severely nipped by the cold. A study 
 of these men in broad light proved them to be nearly 
 all of a type. They belonged to the class that sit on 
 the park benches during the endurable days and sleep 
 upon them during the summer nights. They frequent 
 the Bowery and those down-at-the-heels East Side 
 streets where poor clothes and shrunken features are 
 not singled out as curious. They are the men who are 
 in the lodging-house sitting-rooms during bleak and 
 bitter weather and who swarm about the cheaper shel- 
 ters which only open at six in a number of the lower 
 East Side streets. Miserable food, ill-timed and greed- 
 ily eaten, had played havoc with bone and muscle. They 
 were all pale, flabby, sunken-eyed, hollow-chested, with 
 eyes that glinted and shone and lips that were a sickly 
 red by contrast. Their hair was but half attended to,
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 541 
 
 their ears anaemic in hue, and their shoes broken in 
 leather and run down at heel and toe. They were of 
 the class which simply floats and drifts, every wave of 
 people washing up one, as breakers do driftwood upon 
 a stormy shore. 
 
 For nearly a quarter of a century, in another section 
 of the city, Fleischmann, the baker, had jpven a loaf of 
 bread to any one who would come for it to the side 
 door of his restaurant at the corner of Broadway and 
 Tenth Street, at midnight. Every night during twenty 
 years about three hundred men had formed in line and 
 at the appointed time marched past the doorway, 
 picked their loaf from a great box placed just outside, 
 and vanished again into the night. From the begin- 
 ning to the present time there had been little change in 
 the character or number of these men. There were 
 two or three figures that had grown familiar to those 
 who had seen this little procession pass year after year. 
 Two of them had missed scarcely a night in fifteen 
 years. There were about forty, more or less, regular 
 callers. The remainder of the line was formed of 
 strangers. In times of panic and unusual hardships 
 there were seldom more than three hundred. In times 
 of prosperity, when little is heard of the unemployed, 
 there were seldom less. The same number, winter and 
 summer, in storm or calm, in good times and bad, held 
 this melancholy midnight rendezvous at Fleischmann's 
 bread box. 
 
 At both of these two charities, during the severe 
 winter which was now on, Hurstwood was a frequent 
 visitor. On one occasion it was peculiarly cold, and 
 finding no comfort in begging about the streets, he 
 waited until noon before seeking this free offering to 
 the poor. Already, at eleven o'clock of this morning, 
 several such as he had shambled forward out of Sixth
 
 542 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 Avenue, their thin clothes flapping and fluttering in 
 the wind. They leaned against the iron railing which 
 protects the walls of the Ninth Regiment Armory, 
 which fronts upon that section of Fifteenth Street, hav- 
 ing come early in order to be first in. Having an hour to 
 wait, they at first lingered at a respectful distance ; but 
 others coming up, they moved closer in order to protect 
 their right of precedence. To this collection Hurstwood 
 came up from the west out of Seventh Avenue and 
 stopped close to the door, nearer than all the others. 
 Those who had been waiting before him, but farther away, 
 now drew near, and by a certain stolidity of demeanour, 
 no words being spoken, indicated that they were first. 
 
 Seeing the opposition to his action, he looked sullenly 
 along the line, then moved out, taking his place at the 
 foot. When order had been restored, the animal feel- 
 ing of opposition relaxed. 
 
 " Must be pretty near noon," ventured one. 
 
 " It is," said another. " I've been waiting nearly an 
 hour." 
 
 " Gee, but it's cold ! " 
 
 They peered eagerly at the door, where all must 
 enter. A grocery man drove up and carried in several 
 baskets of eatables. This started some words upon 
 grocery men and the cost of food in general. 
 
 " I see meat's gone up," said one. 
 
 " If there wuz war, it would help this country a lot." 
 
 The line was growing rapidly. Already there were 
 fifty or more, and those at the head, by their de- 
 meanour, evidently congratulated themselves upon not 
 having so long to wait as those at the foot. There was 
 much jerking of heads, and looking down the line. 
 
 " It don't matter how near you get to the front, so 
 long as you're in the first twenty-five," commented one 
 of the first twenty-five. "You all go in together."
 
 SISTER CARRIE 543 
 
 " Humph ! " ejaculated Hurstwood, who had been so 
 sturdily displaced. 
 
 " This here Single Tax is the thing," said another. 
 " There ain't going to be no order till it comes." 
 
 For the most part there was silence ; gaunt men shuf- 
 fling, glancing, and beating their arms. 
 
 At last the door opened and the motherly-looking sis- 
 ter appeared. She only looked an order. Slowly the 
 line moved up and, one by one, passed in, until twenty- 
 five were counted. Then she interposed a stout arm, and 
 the line halted, with six men on the steps. Of these the 
 ex-manager was one. Waiting thus, some talked, some 
 ejaculated concerning the misery of it; some brooded, 
 as did Hurstwood. At last he was admitted, and, hav- 
 ing eaten, came away, almost angered because of his 
 pains in getting it. 
 
 At eleven o'clock of another evening, perhaps two 
 weeks later, he was at the midnight offering of a loaf 
 waiting patiently. It had been an unfortunate day 
 with him, but now he took his fate with a touch of 
 philosophy. If he could secure no supper, or was 
 hungry late in the evening, here was a place he could 
 come. A few minutes before twelve, a great box of 
 bread was pushed out, and exactly on the hour a portly, 
 round-faced German took position by it, calling 
 " Ready." The whole line at once moved forward, 
 each taking his loaf in turn and going his separate way. 
 On this occasion, the ex-manager ate his as he went, 
 plodding the dark streets in silence to his bed. 
 
 By January he had about concluded that the game 
 was up with him. Life had always seemed a precious 
 thing, but now constant want and weakened vitality 
 had made the charms of earth rather dull and incon- 
 spicuous. Several times, when fortune pressed most 
 harshly, he thought he would end his troubles ; but with
 
 544 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 a. change of weather, or the arrival of a quarter or a 
 dime, his mood would change, and he would wait. 
 Each day he would find some old paper lying about 
 and look into it, to see if there was any trace of Carrie, 
 but all summer and fall he had looked in vain. Then 
 he noticed that his eyes were beginning to hurt him, 
 and this ailment rapidly increased until, in the dark 
 chambers of the lodgings he frequented, he did not 
 attempt to read. Bad and irregular eating was weaken- 
 ing every function of his body. The one recourse left 
 him was to doze when a place offered and he could get 
 the money to occupy it. 
 
 He was beginning to find, in his wretched clothing 
 and meagre state of body, that people took him for a 
 chronic type of bum and beggar. Police hustled him 
 along, restaurant and lodging-house keepers turned 
 him out promptly the moment he had his due; pedes- 
 trians waved him off. He found it more and more 
 difficult to get anything from anybody. 
 
 At last he admitted to himself that the game was up. 
 It was after a long series of appeals to pedestrians, in 
 which he had been refused and refused every one 
 hastening from contact. 
 
 "Give me a little something, will you, mister?" he 
 said to the last one. " For God's sake, do ; I'm 
 starving." 
 
 " Aw, get out," said the man, who happened to be a 
 common type himself. " You're no good. I'll give you 
 nawthin'." 
 
 Hurstwood put his hands, red from cold, down in his 
 pockets. Tears came into his eyes. 
 
 "That's right," he said ; " I'm no good now. I was 
 all right. I had money. I'm going to quit this," and, 
 with death in his heart, he started down toward the 
 Bowery. People had turned on the gas before and died ;
 
 SISTER CARRIE 545 
 
 why shouldn't he? He remembered a lodging-house 
 where there were little, close rooms, with gas-jets in 
 them, almost pre-arranged, he thought, for what he 
 wanted to do, which rented for fifteen cents. Then he 
 remembered that he had no fifteen cents. 
 
 On the way he met a comfortable-looking gentleman, 
 coming, clean-shaven, out of a fine barber shop. 
 
 "Would you mind giving me a little something?" 
 he asked this man boldly. 
 
 The gentleman looked him over and fished for a 
 dime. Nothing but quarters were in his pocket. 
 
 " Here," he said, handing him one, to be rid of him. 
 " Be off, now." 
 
 Hurstwood moved on, wondering. The sight of the 
 large, bright coin pleased him a little. He remembered 
 that he was hungry and that he could get a bed for ten 
 cents. With this, the idea of death passed, for the 
 time being, out of his mind. It was only when he 
 could get nothing but insults that death seemed worth 
 while. 
 
 One day, in the middle of the winter, the sharpest 
 spell of the season set in. It broke grey and cold in the 
 first day, and on the second snowed. Poor luck pursu- 
 ing him, he had secured but ten cents by nightfall, and 
 this he had spent for food. At evening he found him- 
 self at the Boulevard and Sixty-seventh Street, where 
 he finally turned his face Bowery-ward. Especially 
 fatigued because of the wandering propensity which 
 had seized him in the morning, he now half dragged 
 his wet feet, shuffling the soles upon the sidewalk. An 
 old, thin coat was turned up about his red ears his 
 cracked derby hat was pulled down until it turned them 
 outward. His hands were in his pockets. 
 
 " I'll just go down Broadway," he said to himself. 
 
 When he reached Forty-second Street, the fire signs
 
 546 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 were already blazing brightly. Crowds were hastening 
 to dine. Through bright windows, at every corner, 
 might be seen gay companies in luxuriant restaurants. 
 There were coaches and crowded cable cars. 
 
 In his weary and hungry state, he should never have 
 come here. The contrast was too sharp. Even he was 
 recalled keenly to better things. 
 
 "What's the use?" he thought. "It's all up with 
 me. I'll quit this." 
 
 People turned to look after him, so uncouth was his 
 shambling figure. Several officers followed him with 
 their eyes, to see that he did not beg of anybody. 
 
 Once he paused in an aimless, incoherent sort of way 
 and looked through the windows of an imposing res- 
 taurant, before which blazed a fire sign, and through 
 the large, plate windows of which could be seen the 
 red and gold decorations, the palms, the white napery, 
 and shining glassware, and, above all, the comfortable 
 crowd. Weak as his mind had become, his hunger 
 was sharp enough to show the importance of this. He 
 stopped stock still, his frayed trousers soaking in the 
 slush, and peered foolishly in. 
 
 " Eat," he mumbled. " That's right, eat. Nobody 
 else wants any." 
 
 Then his voice dropped even lower, and his mind half 
 lost the fancy it had. 
 
 " It's mighty cold," he said. " Awful cold." 
 
 At Broadway and Thirty-ninth Street was blazing, 
 in incandescent fire, Carrie's name. " Carrie Ma- 
 denda," it read, " and the Casino Company." All the 
 wet, snowy sidewalk was bright with this radiated fire. 
 It was so bright that it attracted Hurstwood's gaze. 
 He looked up, and then at a large, gilt-framed poster- 
 board, on which was a fine lithograph of Carrie, life- 
 size.
 
 SISTER CARRIE 547 
 
 Hurstwood gazed at it a moment, snuffling and 
 hunching one shoulder, as if something were scratching 
 him. He was so run down, however, that his mind was 
 not exactly clear. 
 
 " That's you," he said at last, addressing her. 
 " Wasn't good enough for you, was I ? Huh ! " 
 
 He lingered, trying to think logically. This was no 
 longer possible with him. 
 
 " She's got it," he said, incoherently, thinking of 
 money. " Let her give me some." 
 
 He started around to the side door. Then he forgot 
 what he was going for and paused, pushing his hands 
 deeper to warm the wrists. Suddenly it returned. 
 The stage door ! That was it. 
 
 He approached that entrance and went in. 
 
 "Well?" said the attendant, staring at him. See- 
 ing him pause, he went over and shoved him. " Get 
 out of here," he said. 
 
 " I want to see Miss Madenda," he said. 
 
 " You do, eh?" the other said, almost tickled at the 
 spectacle. " Get out of here," and he shoved him 
 again. Hurstwood had no strength to resist. 
 
 " I want to see Miss Madenda," he tried to explain, 
 even as he was being hustled away. " I'm all right. 
 I " 
 
 The man gave him a last push and closed the door. 
 As he did so, Hurstwood slipped and fell in the snow. 
 It hurt him, and some vague sense of shame returned. 
 He began to cry and swear foolishly. 
 
 "God damned dog!" he said. "Damned old cur," 
 wiping the slush from his -worthless coat. " I I hired 
 such people as you once." 
 
 Now a fierce feeling against Carrie welled up just 
 one fierce, angry thought before the whole thing 
 slipped out of his mind.
 
 54 g SISTER CARRIE 
 
 " She owes me something to eat," he said. " She 
 owes it to me." 
 
 Hopelessly he turned back into Broadway again and 
 slopped onward and away, begging, crying, losing 
 track of his thoughts, one after another, as a mind de- 
 cayed and disjointed is wont to do. 
 
 It was truly a wintry evening, a few days later, when 
 his one distinct mental decision was reached. Already, 
 at four o'clock, the sombre hue of night was thickening 
 the air. A heavy snow was falling a fine picking, 
 whipping snow, borne forward by a swift wind in long, 
 thin lines. The streets were bedded with it six inches 
 of cold, soft carpet, churned to a dirty brown by the 
 crush of teams and the feet of men. Along Broadway 
 men picked their way in ulsters and umbrellas. Along 
 the Bowery, men slouched through it with collars and 
 hats pulled over their ears. In the former thorough- 
 fare business men and travellers were making for com- 
 fortable hotels. In the latter, crowds on cold errands 
 shifted past dingy stores, in the deep recesses of which 
 lights were already gleaming. There were early lights 
 in the cable cars, whose usual clatter was reduced by 
 the mantle about the wheels. The whole city was muf- 
 fled by this fast-thickening mantle. 
 
 In her comfortable chambers at the Waldorf, Carrie 
 was reading at this time " Pere Goriot," which Ames had 
 recommended to her. It was so strong, and Ames's 
 mere recommendation had so aroused her interest, that 
 she caught nearly the full sympathetic significance of 
 it. For the first time, it was being borne in upon her 
 how silly and worthless had been her earlier reading, 
 as a whole. Becoming wearied, however, she yawned 
 and came to the window, looking out upon the old 
 winding procession of carriages rolling up Fifth 
 Avenue.
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 549 
 
 " Isn't it bad? " she observed to Lola. 
 
 " Terrible ! " said that little lady, joining her. " I 
 hope it snows enough to go sleigh riding." 
 
 " Oh, dear," said Carrie, with whom the sufferings 
 of Father Goriot were still keen. " That's all you think 
 of. Aren't you sorry for the people who haven't any- 
 thing to-night? " 
 
 "Of course I am," said Lola; "but what can I do? 
 I haven't anything." 
 
 Carrie smiled. 
 
 " You wouldn't care, if you had," she returned. 
 
 " I would, too," said Lola. " But people never gave 
 me anything when I was hard up." 
 
 " Isn't it just awful? " said Carrie, studying the win- 
 ter's storm. 
 
 " Look at that man over there," laughed Lola, who 
 had caught sight of some one falling down. " How 
 sheepish men look when they fall, don't they?" 
 
 "We'll have to take a coach to-night," answered 
 Carrie absently. 
 
 In the lobby of the Imperial, Mr. Charles Drouet was 
 just arriving, shaking the snow from a very handsome 
 ulster. Bad weather had driven him home early and 
 stirred his desire for those pleasures which shut out the 
 snow and gloom of life. A good dinner, the company 
 of a young woman, and an evening at the theatre were 
 the chief things for him. 
 
 " Why, hello, Harry ! " he said, addressing a lounger 
 in one of the comfortable lobby chairs. " How ar*- 
 you?" 
 
 " Oh, about six and six," said the other. 
 
 " Rotten weather, isn't it? " 
 
 " Well, I should say," said the other. " I've been 
 just sitting here thinking where I'd go to-night."
 
 550 
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 " Come along with me," said Drouet. " I can intro- 
 duce you to something dead swell." 
 
 " Who is it? " said the other. 
 
 " Oh, a couple of girls over here in Fortieth Street. 
 We could have a dandy time. I was just looking for 
 you." 
 
 " Supposing we get 'em and take 'em out to dinner? " 
 
 " Sure," said Drouet. " Wait'll I go upstairs and 
 change my clothes." 
 
 "Well, I'll be in the barber shop," said the other. 
 " I want to get a shave." 
 
 "All right," said Drouet, creaking off in his good 
 shoes toward the elevator. The old butterfly was as 
 light on the wing as ever. 
 
 On an incoming vestibuled Pullman, speeding at forty 
 miles an hour through the snow of the evening, were 
 three others, all related. 
 
 " First call for dinner in the dining-car," a Pullman 
 servitor was announcing, as he hastened through the 
 aisle in snow-white apron and jacket. 
 
 " I don't believe I want to play any more," said the 
 youngest, a black-haired beauty, turned supercilious by 
 fortune, as she pushed a euchre hand away from her. 
 
 "Shall we go into dinner?" inquired her husband, 
 who was all that fine raiment can make. 
 
 " Oh, not yet," she answered. " I don't want to play 
 any more, though." 
 
 " Jessica," said her mother, who was also a study in 
 what good clothing can do for age, " push that pin 
 down in your tie it's coming up." 
 
 Jessica obeyed, incidentally touching at her lovely 
 hair and looking at a little jewel-faced watch. Her 
 husband studied her, for beauty, even cold, is fascinat- 
 ing from one point of view.
 
 SISTER CARRIE 551 
 
 " Well, we won't have much more of this weather," 
 he said. " It only takes two weeks to get to Rome." 
 
 Mrs. Hurstwood nestled comfortably in her corner 
 and smiled. It was so nice to be the mother-in-law of a 
 rich young man one whose financial state had borne 
 her personal inspection. 
 
 "Do you suppose the boat will sail promptly?" 
 asked Jessica, " if it keeps up like this? " 
 
 " Oh, yes," answered her husband. " This won't 
 make any difference." 
 
 Passing down the aisle came a very. fair-haired ban- 
 ker's son, also of Chicago, who had long eyed this 
 supercilious beauty. Even now he did not hesitate to 
 glance at her, and she was conscious of it. With a 
 specially conjured show of indifference, she turned her 
 pretty face wholly away. It was not wifely modesty 
 at all. By so much was her pride satisfied. 
 
 At this moment Hurstwood stood before a dirty four- 
 story building in a side street quite near the Bowery, 
 whose one-time coat of buff had been changed by soot 
 and rain. He mingled with a crowd of men a crowd 
 which had been, and was still, gathering by degrees. 
 
 It began with the approach of two or three, who hung 
 about the closed wooden doors and beat their feet to 
 keep them warm. They had on faded derby hats with 
 dents in them. Their misfit coats were heavy with 
 melted snow and turned up at the collars. Their trou- 
 sers were mere bags, frayed at the bottom and wob- 
 bling over big, soppy shoes, torn at the sides and worn 
 almost to shreds. They made no effort to go in, but 
 shifted ruefully about, digging their hands deep in their 
 pockets and leering at the crowd and the increasing 
 lamps. With the minutes, increased the number. There 
 were old men with grizzled beards and sunken eyes,
 
 552 
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 men who were comparatively young but shrunken 
 by diseases, men who were middle-aged. None were 
 fat. There was a face in the thick of the collection 
 which was as white as drained veal. There was an- 
 other red as brick. Some came with thin, rounded 
 shoulders, others with wooden legs, still others with 
 frames so lean that clothes only flapped about them. 
 There were great ears, swollen noses, thick lips, and, 
 above all, red, blood-shot eyes. Not a normal, healthy 
 face in the whole mass ; not a straight figure ; not a 
 straightforward, steady glance. 
 
 In the drive of the wind and sleet they pushed in on 
 one another. There were wrists, unprotected by coat 
 or pocket, which were red with cold. There were ears, 
 half covered by every conceivable semblance of a hat, 
 which still looked stiff and bitten. In the snow they 
 'shifted, now one foot, now another, almost rocking in 
 unison. 
 
 With the growth of the crowd about the door came 
 a murmur. It was not conversation, but a running 
 comment directed at any one in general. It contained 
 oaths and slang phrases. 
 
 " By damn, I wish they'd hurry up." 
 
 " Look at the copper watchin'." 
 
 " Maybe it ain't winter, nuther! " 
 
 " I wisht I was in Sing Sing." 
 
 Now a sharper lash of wind cut down and they hud- 
 dled closer. It was an edging, shifting, pushing 
 throng. There was no anger, no pleading, no threat- 
 ening words. It was all sullen endurance, unlightened 
 by either wit or good fellowship. 
 
 A carriage went jingling by with some reclining 
 figure in it. One of the men nearest the door saw it. 
 
 " Look at the bloke ridin'." 
 
 " He ain't so cold."
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 553 
 
 " Eh, eh, eh ! " yelled another, the carriage having 
 long since passed out of hearing. 
 
 Little by little the night crept on. Along the walk 
 a crowd turned out on its way home. Men and shop- 
 girls went by with quick steps. The cross-town cars 
 began to be crowded. The gas lamps were blazing, 
 and every window bloomed ruddy with a steady flame. 
 Still the crowd hung about the door, unwavering. 
 
 " Ain't they ever goin' to open up ? " queried a hoarse 
 voice, suggestively. 
 
 This seemed to renew the general interest in the 
 closed door, and many gazed in that direction. They 
 looked at it as dumb brutes look, as dogs paw and 
 whine and study the knob. They shifted and blinked 
 and muttered, now a curse, now a comment. Still 
 they waited and still the snow whirled and cut them 
 with biting flakes. On the old hats and peaked shoul- 
 ders it was piling. It gathered in little heaps and curves 
 and no one brushed it off. In the centre of the crowd 
 the warmth and steam melted it, and water trickled off 
 hat rims and down noses, which the owners could not 
 reach to scratch. On the outer rim the piles remained 
 unmelted. Hurstwood, who could not get in the centre, 
 stood with head lowered to the weather and bent his 
 form. 
 
 A light appeared through the transom overhead. It 
 sent a thrill of possibility through the watchers. There 
 was a murmur of recognition. At last the bars grated 
 inside and the crowd pricked up its "ears. Footsteps shuf- 
 fled within and it murmured again. Some one called : 
 " Slow up there, now," and then the door opened. It 
 was push and jam for a minute, with grim, beast silence 
 to prove its quality, and then it melted inward, like 
 logs floating, and disappeared. There were wet hats 
 and wet shoulders, a cold, shrunken, disgruntled mass,
 
 554 
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 pouring in between bleak walls. It was just six o'clock 
 and there was supper in every hurrying pedestrian's 
 face. And yet no supper was provided here nothing 
 but beds. 
 
 Hurstwood laid down his fifteen cents and crept off 
 with weary steps to his allotted room. It was a dingy 
 affair wooden, dusty, hard. A small gas-jet fur- 
 nished sufficient light for so rueful a corner. 
 
 " Hm ! " he said, clearing his throat and locking the 
 door. 
 
 Now he began leisurely to take off his clothes, but 
 stopped first with his coat, and tucked it along the 
 crack under the door. His vest he arranged in the 
 same place. His old wet, cracked hat he laid softly 
 upon the table. Then he pulled off his shoes and lay 
 down. 
 
 It seemed as if he thought a while, for now he arose 
 and turned the gas out, standing calmly in the black- 
 ness, hidden from view. After a few moments, in which 
 he reviewed nothing, but merely hesitated, he turned 
 the gas on again, but applied no match. Even then 
 he stood there, hidden wholly in that kindness which 
 is night, while the uprising fumes filled the room. 
 When the odour reached his nostrils, he quit his atti- 
 tude and fumbled for the bed. 
 
 " What's the use? " he said, weakly, as he stretched 
 himself to rest. 
 
 And now Carrie had attained that which in the be- 
 ginning seemed life's object, or, at least, such fraction of 
 it as human beings ever attain of their original desires. 
 She could look about on her gowns and carriage, her 
 furniture and bank account. Friends there were, as 
 the world takes it those who would bow and smile in 
 acknowledgment of her success. For these she had
 
 SISTER CARRIE 555 
 
 once craved. Applause there was, and publicity once 
 far off, essential things, but now grown trivial and in- 
 different. Beauty also her type of loveliness and 
 yet she was lonely. In her rocking-chair she sat, when 
 not otherwise engaged singing and dreaming. 
 
 Thus in life there is ever the intellectual and the 
 emotional nature the mind that reasons, and the 
 mind that feels. Of one come the men of action gen- 
 erals and statesmen ; of the other, the poets and dream- 
 ers artists all. 
 
 As harps in the wind, the latter respond to every 
 breath of fancy, voicing in their moods all the ebb and 
 flow of the ideal. 
 
 Man has not yet comprehended the dreamer any 
 more than he has the ideal. For him the laws and 
 morals of the world are unduly severe. Ever hearken- 
 ing to the sound of beauty, straining for the flash of its 
 distant wings, he watches to follow, wearying his feet 
 in travelling. So watched Carrie, so followed, rocking 
 and singing. 
 
 And it must be remembered that reason had little 
 part in this. Chicago dawning, she saw the city offer- 
 ing more of loveliness than she had ever known, and 
 instinctively, by force of her moods alone, clung to it. 
 In fine raiment and elegant surroundings, men seemed 
 to be contented. Hence, she drew near these things. 
 Chicago, New York ; Drouet, Hurstwood ; the world 
 of fashion and the world of stage these were but in- 
 cidents. Not them, but that which they represented, 
 she longed for. Time proved the representation false. 
 
 Oh, the tangle of human life! How dimly as yet 
 we see. Here was Carrie, in the beginning poor, un- 
 sophisticated, emotional ; responding with desire to 
 everything most lovely in life, yet finding herself 
 turned as by a wall. Laws to say : " Be allured, if you
 
 556 
 
 SISTER CARRIE 
 
 will, by everything lovely, but draw not nigh unless by 
 righteousness." Convention to say : " You shall not 
 better your situation save by honest labour." If honest 
 labour be unremunerative and difficult to endure; if it 
 be the long, long road which never reaches beauty, but 
 wearies the feet and the heart; if the drag to follow 
 beauty be such that one abandons the admired way, 
 taking rather the despised path leading to her dreams 
 quickly, who shall cast the first stone? Not evil, but 
 longing for that which is better, more often directs the 
 steps of the erring. Not evil, but goodness more often 
 allures the feeling mind unused to reason. 
 
 Amid the tinsel and shine of her state walked Carrie, 
 unhappy. As when Drouet took her, she had thought : 
 " Now I am lifted into that which is best " ; as when 
 Hurstwood seemingly offered her the better way: 
 " Now am I happy." But since the world goes its way 
 past all who will not partake of its folly, she now found 
 herself alone. Her purse was open to him whose need 
 was greatest. In her walks on Broadway, she no 
 longer thought of the elegance of the creatures who 
 passed her. Had they more of that peace and beauty 
 which glimmered afar off, then were they to be envied. 
 
 Drouet abandoned his claim and was seen no more. 
 Of Hurstwood's death she was not even aware. A 
 slow, black boat setting out from the pier at Twenty- 
 seventh Street upon its weekly errand bore, with many 
 others, his nameless body to the Potter's Field. 
 
 Thus passed all that was of interest concerning these 
 twain in their relation to her. Their influence upon 
 her life is explicable alone by the nature of her long- 
 ings. Time was when both represented for her all that 
 was most potent in earthly success. They were the 
 personal representatives of a state most blessed to at- 
 tain the titled ambassadors of comfort and peace,
 
 SISTER CARRIE 557 
 
 aglow with their credentials. It is but natural that 
 when the world which they represented no longer al- 
 lured her, its ambassadors should be discredited. 
 Even had Hurstwood returned in his original beauty 
 and glory, he could not now have allured her. She had 
 learned that in his world, as in her own present state, 
 was not happiness. 
 
 Sitting alone, she was now an illustration of the 
 devious ways by which one who feels, rather than rea- 
 sons, may be led in the pursuit of beauty. Though 
 often disillusioned, she w.as still waiting for that hal- 
 cyon day when she should be led forth among dreams 
 become real. Ames had pointed out a farther step, but 
 on and on beyond that, if accomplished, would lie 
 others for her. It was forever to be the pursuit of 
 that radiance of delight which tints the distant hill- 
 tops of the world. 
 
 Oh, Carrie, Carrie ! Oh, blind strivings of the 
 human heart! Onward, onward, it saith, and where 
 beauty leads, there it follows. Whether it be the tinkle 
 of a lone sheep bell o'er some quiet landscape, or the 
 glimmer of beauty in sylvan places, or the show of soul 
 in some passing eye, the heart knows and makes an- 
 swer, following. It is when the feet weary and hope 
 seems vain that the heartaches and the longings arise. 
 Know, then, that for you is neither surfeit nor content. 
 In your rocking-chair, by your window dreaming, shall 
 you long, alone. In your rocking-chair, by your win- 
 dow, shall you dream such happiness as you may never 
 feel. 
 
 THE END
 
 University of California Library 
 Los Angeles 
 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
 Bicmedica! Libi 
 4 WK APR 03 2000 
 
 MAR 1 R ?
 
 L 007 535 4-