ite his grievance.

Carrie merely pulled at the door.

The strain of the situation was too much for her, however. She made one
more vain effort and then burst into tears.

"Now, be reasonable, Cad," said Drouet gently. "What do you want to rush
out for this way? You haven't any place to go. Why not stay here now and
be quiet? I'll not bother you. I don't want to stay here any longer."

Carrie had gone sobbing from the door to the window. She was so overcome
she could not speak.

"Be reasonable now," he said. "I don't want to hold you. You can go if
you want to, but why don't you think it over? Lord knows, I don't want
to stop you."

He received no answer. Carrie was quieting, however, under the influence
of his plea.

"You stay here now, and I'll go," he added at last.

Carrie listened to this with mingled feelings. Her mind was shaken loose
from the little mooring of logic that it had. She was stirred by this
thought, angered by that--her own injustice, Hurstwood's, Drouet's,
their respective qualities of kindness and favour, the threat of the
world outside, in which she had failed once before, the impossibility
of this state inside, where the chambers were no longer justly hers, the
effect of the argument upon her nerves, all combined to make her a mass
of jangling fibres--an anchorless, storm-beaten little craft which could
do absolutely nothing but drift.

"Say," said Drouet, coming over to her after a few moments, with a new
idea, and putting his hand upon her.

"Don't!" said Carrie, drawing away, but not removing her handkerchief
from her eyes. "Never mind about this quarrel now. Let it go. You stay
here until the month's out, anyhow, and then you can tell better what
you want to do. Eh?"

Carrie made no answer.

"You'd better do that," he said. "There's no use your packing up now.
You can't go anywhere."

Still he got nothing for his words.

"If you'll do that, we'll call it off for the present and I'll get out."

Carrie lowered her handkerchief slightly and looked out of the window.

"Will you do that?" he asked.

Still no answer.

"Will you?" he repeated.

She only looked vaguely into the street.

"Aw! come on," he said, "tell me. Will you?"

"I don't know," said Carrie softly, forced to answer.

"Promise me you'll do that," he said, "and we'll quit talking about it.
It'll be the best thing for you."

Carrie heard him, but she could not bring herself to answer reasonably.
She felt