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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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"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 thea-tre. I’ll have to leave you. Come, now." "Oh, stay a minute," pleaded Drouet. "You’ve got plenty of time." "No," said Carrie, gently. 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 longing revived, because she was now so far off. He thought himself hardly dealt with. Carrie, however, had other thoughts. That night it was that she passed Hurstwood, waiting at the Casino, without observing him. The next night, walking to the theatre, she encountered 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?" 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, almost 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 answered. "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 before it began to wear partially away. Drouet called again, but now he was not even seen by her. His attentions seemed out of place. |
