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Updated: May 29, 2025
He knew that Drouet was only a traveling salesman-and not one of many years at that-but the firm of Barlett, Caryoe & Company was large and prosperous house, and Drouet stood well. Hurstwood knew Caryoe quite well, having drunk a glass now and then with him, in company with several others, when tie conversation was general.
A Madame Sappho would have called him a pig; a Shakespeare would have said " my merry child;" old, drinking Caryoe thought him a clever, successful business man. In short, he was as good as his intellect conceived. The best proof that there was something open and commendable about the man was the fact that Carrie took the money.
" What's become of Caryoe?" remarked Hurstwood " I haven't seen him around here in two weeks." " Laid up, they say," exclaimed Drouet. " Say, he's a gouty old boy!" " Made a lot of money in his time, though, hasn't he?" " Yes, and swift-pacer," laughed Drouet. " I guess he can't hurt the business very much, though, with the other members all there." " No, he can't injure that any, I guess."
He bobbed about among men, a veritable bundle of enthusiasm no power worthy the name of intellect, no thoughts worthy the adjective noble, no feelings long continued in one strain. A Madame Sappho would have called him a pig; a Shakespeare would have said "my merry child"; old, drinking Caryoe thought him a clever, successful businessman. In short, he was as good as his intellect conceived.
"What's become of Caryoe?" remarked Hurstwood. "I haven't seen him around here in two weeks." "Laid up, they say," exclaimed Drouet. "Say, he's a gouty old boy!" "Made a lot of money in his time, though, hasn't he?" "Yes, wads of it," returned Drouet. "He won't live much longer. Barely comes down to the office now." "Just one boy, hasn't he?" asked Hurstwood.
He took out a neat business card, on which was engraved Bartlett, Caryoe & Company, and down in the left-hand corner, Chas. H. Druer. "That's me," he said, putting the card in her hand and touching his name. "It's pronounced Drew-eh. Our family was French, on my father's side." She looked at it while he put up his purse. Then he got out a letter from a bunch in his coat pocket.
He knew that Drouet was only a travelling salesman and not one of many years at that but the firm of Bartlett, Caryoe & Company was a large and prosperous house, and Drouet stood well. Hurstwood knew Caryoe quite well, having drunk a glass now and then with him, in company with several others, when the conversation was general.
He took out a neat business card, on which was engraved Bartlett, Caryoe & Company, and down in the left-hand corner, Chas. H. Drouet. "That's me," he said, putting the card in her hand and touching his name. "It's pronounced Drew-eh. Our family was French, on my father's side." She looked at it while he put up his purse. Then he got out a letter from a bunch in his coat pocket.
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