old tunes crept to her lips, and, as she sang them, her heart sank.
She longed and longed and longed. It was now for the old cottage room in
Columbia City, now the mansion upon the Shore Drive, now the fine
dress of some lady, now the elegance of some scene. She was sad beyond
measure, and yet uncertain, wishing, fancying. Finally, it seemed as
if all her state was one of loneliness and forsakenness, and she could
scarce refrain from trembling at the lip. She hummed and hummed as the
moments went by, sitting in the shadow by the window, and was therein as
happy, though she did not perceive it, as she ever would be.

While Carrie was still in this frame of mind, the house-servant brought
up the intelligence that Mr. Hurstwood was in the parlour asking to see
Mr. and Mrs. Drouet.

"I guess he doesn't know that Charlie is out of town," thought Carrie.

She had seen comparatively little of the manager during the winter,
but had been kept constantly in mind of him by one thing and another,
principally by the strong impression he had made. She was quite
disturbed for the moment as to her appearance, but soon satisfied
herself by the aid of the mirror, and went below.

Hurstwood was in his best form, as usual. He hadn't heard that Drouet
was out of town. He was but slightly affected by the intelligence, and
devoted himself to the more general topics which would interest Carrie.
It was surprising--the ease with which he conducted a conversation. He
was like every man who has had the advantage of practice and knows he
has sympathy. He knew that Carrie listened to him pleasurably, and,
without the least effort, he fell into a train of observation which
absorbed her fancy. He drew up his chair and modulated his voice to
such a degree that what he said seemed wholly confidential. He confined
himself almost exclusively to his observation of men and pleasures.
He had been here and there, he had seen this and that. Somehow he made
Carrie wish to see similar things, and all the while kept her aware of
himself. She could not shut out the consciousness of his individuality
and presence for a moment. He would raise his eyes slowly in smiling
emphasis of something, and she was fixed by their magnetism. He would
draw out, with the easiest grace, her approval. Once he touched her hand
for emphasis and she only smiled. He seemed to radiate an atmosphere
which suffused her being. He was never dull for a minute, and seemed to
make her cleve