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Updated: May 8, 2025
At other times she would look about her and assure herself that things were not so bad that certainly she would come out safe and sound. At such times she would think of Drouet's advice about going on the stage, and saw some chance for herself in that quarter. She decided to take up that opportunity on the morrow. Accordingly, she arose early Monday morning and dressed herself carefully.
"Yes, I will," he exclaimed, more feelingly than usual, adding, with the tone of one who pleads, "Don't you believe what I've told you?" Carrie laughed a little. "Of course I do," she answered. Drouet's assurance now misgave him. Shallow as was his mental observation, there was that in the things which had happened which made his little power of analysis useless.
In such feeble tendencies, be it known, such outworking of desire to reproduce life, lies the basis of all dramatic art. Now, when Carrie heard Drouet's laudatory opinion of her dramatic ability, her body tingled with satisfaction.
She must and should be his. For her part, Carrie had experienced a world of fancy and feeling since she had left him, the night before. She had listened to Drouet's enthusiastic maunderings with much regard for that part which concerned herself, with very little for that which affected his own gain. She kept him at such lengths as she could, because her thoughts were with her own triumph.
She asked Minnie for ink and paper, which were upon the mantel in the dining-room, and when the latter had gone to bed at ten, got out Drouet's card and wrote him. " I cannot have you call on me here. You will have to wait until you hear from me again. My sister's place is so small."
In such feeble tendencies, be it known, such outworking of desire to reproduce life, lies the basis of all dramatic art. Now, when Carrie heard Drouet's laudatory opinion of her dramatic ability, her body tingled with satisfaction.
She looked about and picked a jacket like the one which she had admired at The Fair. When she got it in her hand it seemed so much nicer. The saleswoman helped her on with it, and, by accident, it fitted perfectly. Drouet's face lightened as he saw the improvement. She looked quite smart. "That's the thing," he said. Carrie turned before the glass.
He never for a moment concealed the fact of her attraction for himself. He troubled himself not at all about Drouet's priority. He was merely floating those gossamer threads of thought which, like the spider's, he hoped would lay hold somewhere. He did not know, he could not guess, what the result would be.
"You oughtn't to have had anything to do with him," said Drouet in an injured tone, "after all I've done for you." "You," said Carrie, "you! What have you done for me?" Her little brain had been surging with contradictory feelings-shame at exposure, shame at Hurstwood's perfidy, anger at Drouet's deception, the mockery he had made at her. Now one clear idea came into her head. He was at fault.
He saw at once that a mistake had been made, that some difficult conditions had pushed this troubled creature into his presence, and his interest was enlisted. Here sympathy sprang to the rescue, but it was not unmixed with selfishness. He wanted to win Carrie because he thought her fate mingled with his was better than if it were united with Drouet's.
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