e youth, pushing out a small pile of reds.

"Let me have some more chips," said Hurstwood to the keeper in charge,
taking out a bill.

A cynical grin lit up the face of his youthful opponent. When the chips
were laid out, Hurstwood met the raise.

"Five again," said the youth.

Hurstwood's brow was wet. He was deep in now--very deep for him. Sixty
dollars of his good money was up. He was ordinarily no coward, but the
thought of losing so much weakened him. Finally he gave way. He would
not trust to this fine hand any longer.

"I call," he said.

"A full house!" said the youth, spreading out his cards.

Hurstwood's hand dropped.

"I thought I had you," he said, weakly.

The youth raked in his chips, and Hurstwood came away, not without first
stopping to count his remaining cash on the stair.

"Three hundred and forty dollars," he said.

With this loss and ordinary expenses, so much had already gone.

Back in the flat, he decided he would play no more.

Remembering Mrs. Vance's promise to call, Carrie made one other mild
protest. It was concerning Hurstwood's appearance. This very day, coming
home, he changed his clothes to the old togs he sat around in.

"What makes you always put on those old clothes?" asked Carrie.

"What's the use wearing my good ones around here?" he asked.

"Well, I should think you'd feel better." Then she added: "Some one
might call."

"Who?" he said.

"Well, Mrs. Vance," said Carrie.

"She needn't see me," he answered, sullenly.

This lack of pride and interest made Carrie almost hate him.

"Oh," she thought, "there he sits. 'She needn't see me.' I should think
he would be ashamed of himself."

The real bitterness of this thing was added when Mrs. Vance did call.
It was on one of her shopping rounds. Making her way up the commonplace
hall, she knocked at Carrie's door. To her subsequent and agonising
distress, Carrie was out. Hurstwood opened the door, half-thinking that
the knock was Carrie's. For once, he was taken honestly aback. The lost
voice of youth and pride spoke in him.

"Why," he said, actually stammering, "how do you do?"

"How do you do?" said Mrs. Vance, who could scarcely believe her eyes.
His great confusion she instantly perceived. He did not know whether to
invite her in or not.

"Is your wife at home?" she inquired.

"No," he said, "Carrie's out; but won't you step in? She'll be back
shortly."

"No-o," said Mrs. Vance, realising the change of