Sister Carrie, Theodore Dreiser [ebook reader below 3000 .TXT] 📗

“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 little office the next afternoon when he saw Drouet enter.

“Why, hello, Charles,” he called 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 home yet?” finally asked Hurstwood.

“No, I am going, though,” said Drouet.

“I remembered the little girl out there,” said Hurstwood, “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 girl 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 himself 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 another 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, preparatory to washing his face and changing his clothes, he 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 thousand 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 recollection 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 Hurstwood 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, looking 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 come 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 Carrie felt how really futile had been her hopes. She could clearly see that this easygoing 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 sympathised 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 looking 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 today, 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 feelings 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 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 Hurstwood 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