ed to carry it out. Montreal and New York! Even now she was speeding
toward those great, strange lands, and could see them if she liked. She
thought, but made no sign.

Hurstwood thought he saw a shade of compliance in this. He redoubled his
ardour.

"Think," he said, "what I've given up. I can't go back to Chicago any
more. I've got to stay away and live alone now, if you don't come with
me. You won't go back on me entirely, will you, Carrie?"

"I don't want you to talk to me," she answered forcibly.

Hurstwood kept silent for a while.

Carrie felt the train to be slowing down. It was the moment to act if
she was to act at all. She stirred uneasily.

"Don't think of going, Carrie," he said. "If you ever cared for me at
all, come along and let's start right. I'll do whatever you say. I'll
marry you, or I'll let you go back. Give yourself time to think it over.
I wouldn't have wanted you to come if I hadn't loved you. I tell you,
Carrie, before God, I can't live without you. I won't!"

There was the tensity of fierceness in the man's plea which appealed
deeply to her sympathies. It was a dissolving fire which was actuating
him now. He was loving her too intensely to think of giving her up in
this, his hour of distress. He clutched her hand nervously and pressed
it with all the force of an appeal.

The train was now all but stopped. It was running by some cars on a side
track. Everything outside was dark and dreary. A few sprinkles on the
window began to indicate that it was raining. Carrie hung in a quandary,
balancing between decision and helplessness. Now the train stopped, and
she was listening to his plea. The engine backed a few feet and all was
still.

She wavered, totally unable to make a move. Minute after minute slipped
by and still she hesitated, he pleading.

"Will you let me come back if I want to?" she asked, as if she now had
the upper hand and her companion was utterly subdued.

"Of course," he answered, "you know I will."

Carrie only listened as one who has granted a temporary amnesty. She
began to feel as if the matter were in her hands entirely.

The train was again in rapid motion. Hurstwood changed the subject.

"Aren't you very tired?" he said.

"No," she answered.

"Won't you let me get you a berth in the sleeper?"

She shook her head, though for all her distress and his trickery she was
beginning to notice what she had always felt--his thoughtfulness.

"Oh, yes," he said, "yo