LITMIR.BIZ

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a nice man. He’s manager of Fitzgerald and Moy’s.”

      “What that?” said Carrie.

      “The finest resort in town. It’s a way-up, smell place.”[46]

      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 got married?” she inquired, thinking of the voluble promise 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 he 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 enamored 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 a way, 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 feelings at ease in waiting. She was not exactly sure what she thought of him – what she 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 overbold. 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. His 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.

      Drouet had ability in this line 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 succeeded 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 opportunity tumbled into his lap[47], 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 Hurstwood, smiling at Carrie, on the evening in question, “so that your wife could play.”

      Drouet had not though of that.

      “So we ought,” he observed readily. “Oh, I don’t play,” ventured Carrie.

      “It’s 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.

      “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 suggest that he knew anything of Carrie’s past. He kept away from personalities altogether, and confined himself to these 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 seriously 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 considerably.

      “Now, let me see,” said Hurstwood, looking over Carrie’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.[48] Hurstwood’s a regular sharp[49].”

      “No, it’s your wife. She brings me luck. Why shouldn’t she win?”

      Carrie looked gratefully at Hurstwood, and smiled at Drouet. The former took the air of a mere friend. He 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 Hurstwood 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 there 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[50].”

      “All right,” said Drouet, fishing for bills.

      Hurstwood was quicker. His finger were full of new ten-cent pieces. “Here we are,” he said, supplying each one with a little stack.

      “Oh, this 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 moralize,” 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 humor of it.

      “When do you leave?” said Hurstwood to Drouet.

      “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 theater 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. He rejoined in her success, kept counting her winnings, and finally gathered

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