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Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers |
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Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers |
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"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 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 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 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 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 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." |
