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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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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 useless. 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 develop 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 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 company. On this was printed a picture of a pretty girl, holding 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 interstices 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?" "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 observation, 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. "I didn’t see you for a long time," she said, coquettishly, 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, Hurstwood?" she suddenly asked, bethinking herself of the manager, who, from her own observation, seemed to contain promising 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?" |
