.

Across the lobby, however, another individual was surveying him. He was
of a commonplace Irish type, small of stature, cheaply dressed, and with
a head that seemed a smaller edition of some huge ward politician's.
This individual had been evidently talking with the clerk, but now he
surveyed the ex-manager keenly.

Hurstwood felt the long-range examination and recognised the type.
Instinctively he felt that the man was a detective--that he was being
watched. He hurried across, pretending not to notice, but in his mind
was a world of thoughts. What would happen now? What could these people
do? He began to trouble concerning the extradition laws. He did not
understand them absolutely. Perhaps he could be arrested. Oh, if Carrie
should find out! Montreal was too warm for him. He began to long to be
out of it.

Carrie had bathed and was waiting when he arrived. She looked
refreshed--more delightful than ever, but reserved. Since he had gone
she had resumed somewhat of her cold attitude towards him. Love was not
blazing in her heart. He felt it, and his troubles seemed increased. He
could not take her in his arms; he did not even try. Something about her
forbade it. In part his opinion was the result of his own experiences
and reflections below stairs.

"You're ready, are you?" he said kindly.

"Yes," she answered.

"We'll go out for breakfast. This place down here doesn't appeal to me
very much."

"All right," said Carrie.

They went out, and at the corner the commonplace Irish individual was
standing, eyeing him. Hurstwood could scarcely refrain from showing that
he knew of this chap's presence. The insolence in the fellow's eye was
galling. Still they passed, and he explained to Carrie concerning the
city. Another restaurant was not long in showing itself, and here they
entered.

"What a queer town this is," said Carrie, who marvelled at it solely
because it was not like Chicago.

"It Isn't as lively as Chicago," said Hurstwood. "Don't you like it?"

"No," said Carrie, whose feelings were already localised in the great
Western city.

"Well, it isn't as interesting," said Hurstwood.

"What's here?" asked Carrie, wondering at his choosing to visit this
town.

"Nothing much," returned Hurstwood. "It's quite a resort. There's some
pretty scenery about here."

Carrie listened, but with a feeling of unrest. There was much about her
situation which destroyed the possibility of appreciation.

"We won't s