o
far, but her feminine love of finery prevailed. The next day Hurstwood
said:

"We owe the grocer five dollars and forty cents this week."

"Do we?" said Carrie, frowning a little.

She looked in her purse to leave it.

"I've only got eight dollars and twenty cents altogether."

"We owe the milkman sixty cents," added Hurstwood.

"Yes, and there's the coal man," said Carrie.

Hurstwood said nothing. He had seen the new things she was buying; the
way she was neglecting household duties; the readiness with which she
was slipping out afternoons and staying. He felt that something was
going to happen. All at once she spoke:

"I don't know," she said; "I can't do it all. I don't earn enough."

This was a direct challenge. Hurstwood had to take it up. He tried to be
calm.

"I don't want you to do it all," he said. "I only want a little help
until I can get something to do."

"Oh, yes," answered Carrie. "That's always the way. It takes more than I
can earn to pay for things. I don't see what I'm going to do.

"Well, I've tried to get something," he exclaimed. What do you want me
to do?"

"You couldn't have tried so very hard," said Carrie. "I got something."

"Well, I did," he said, angered almost to harsh words. "You needn't
throw up your success to me. All I asked was a little help until I could
get something. I'm not down yet. I'll come up all right."

He tried to speak steadily, but his voice trembled a little.

Carrie's anger melted on the instant. She felt ashamed.

"Well," she said, "here's the money," and emptied it out on the table.
"I haven't got quite enough to pay it all. If they can wait until
Saturday, though, I'll have some more."

"You keep it," said Hurstwood sadly. "I only want enough to pay the
grocer."

She put it back, and proceeded to get dinner early and in good time. Her
little bravado made her feel as if she ought to make amends.

In a little while their old thoughts returned to both.

"She's making more than she says," thought Hurstwood. "She says she's
making twelve, but that wouldn't buy all those things. I don't care. Let
her keep her money. I'll get something again one of these days. Then she
can go to the deuce."

He only said this in his anger, but it prefigured a possible course of
action and attitude well enough.

"I don't care," thought Carrie. "He ought to be told to get out and do
something. It isn't right that I should support him."

In these days Carrie was