Chapter: When Carrie came Hurstwood had been waiting many minutes. His blood was
warm; his nerves wrought up. He was anxious to see the woman who had
stirred him so profoundly the night before.

"Here you are," he said, repressedly, feeling a spring in his limbs and
an elation which was tragic in itself.

"Yes," said Carrie.

They walked on as if bound for some objective point, while Hurstwood
drank in the radiance of her presence. The rustle of her pretty skirt
was like music to him.

"Are you satisfied?" he asked, thinking of how well she did the night
before.

"Are you?"

He tightened his fingers as he saw the smile she gave him.

"It was wonderful."

Carrie laughed ecstatically.

"That was one of the best things I've seen in a long time," he added.

He was dwelling on her attractiveness as he had felt it the evening
before, and mingling it with the feeling her presence inspired now.

Carrie was dwelling in the atmosphere which this man created for her.
Already she was enlivened and suffused with a glow. She felt his drawing
toward her in every sound of his voice.

"Those were such nice flowers you sent me," she said, after a moment or
two. "They were beautiful."

"Glad you liked them," he answered, simply.

He was thinking all the time that the subject of his desire was being
delayed. He was anxious to turn the talk to his own feelings. All was
ripe for it. His Carrie was beside him. He wanted to plunge in and
expostulate with her, and yet he found himself fishing for words and
feeling for a way.

"You got home all right," he said, gloomily, of a sudden, his tune
modifying itself to one of self-commiseration.

"Yes," said Carrie, easily.

He looked at her steadily for a moment, slowing his pace and fixing her
with his eye.

She felt the flood of feeling.

"How about me?" he asked.

This confused Carrie considerably, for she realised the flood-gates
were open. She didn't know exactly what to answer. "I don't know," she
answered.

He took his lower lip between his teeth for a moment, and then let it
go. He stopped by the walk side and kicked the grass with his toe. He
searched her face with a tender, appealing glance.

"Won't you come away from him?" he asked, intensely.

"I don't know," returned Carrie, still illogically drifting and finding
nothing at which to catch.

As a matter of fact, she was in a most hopeless quandary. Here was a
man whom she thoroughly liked, who exercised an influence over her,
sufficient almost to delude her into the belief that she was possessed
of a lively passion for him. She was still the victim of his keen eyes,
his suave manners, his fine clothes. She looked and saw before her a
man who was most gracious and sympathetic, who leaned toward her with a
feeling that was a delight to observe. She could not resist the glow
of his temperament, the light of his eye. She could hardly keep from
feeling what he felt.

And yet she was not without thoughts which were disturbing. What did
he know? What had Drouet told him? Was she a wife in his eyes, or what?
Would he marry her? Even while he talked, and she softened, and her eyes
were lighted with a tender glow, she was asking herself if Drouet
had told him they were not married. There was never anything at all
convincing about what Drouet said.

And yet she was not grieved at Hurstwood's love. No strain of bitterness
was in it for her, whatever he knew. He was evidently sincere. His
passion was real and warm. There was power in what he said. What should
she do? She went on thinking this, answering vaguely, languishing
affectionately, and altogether drifting, until she was on a borderless
sea of speculation.

"Why don't you come away?" he said, tenderly. "I will arrange for you
whatever--"

"Oh, don't," said Carrie.

"Don't what?" he asked. "What do you mean?"

There was a look of confusion and pain in her face. She was wondering
why that miserable thought must be brought in. She was struck as by
a blade with the miserable provision which was outside the pale of
marriage.

He himself realized that it was a wretched thing to have dragged in.
He wanted to weigh the effects of it, and yet he could not see. He
went beating on, flushed by her presence, clearly awakened, intensely
enlisted in his plan.

"Won't you come?" he said, beginning over and with a more reverent
feeling. "You know I can't do without you--you know it--it can't go on
this way--can it?"

"I know," said Carrie.

"I wouldn't ask if I--I wouldn't argue with you if I could help it. Look
at me, Carrie. Put yourself in my place. You don't want to stay away
from me, do you?"

She shook her head as if in deep thought. "Then why not settle the whole
thing, once and for all?"

"I don't know," said Carrie.

"Don't know! Ah, Carrie, what makes you say that? Don't torment me. Be
serious."

"I am," said Carrie, softly.

"You can't be, dearest, and say that. Not when you know how I love you.
Look at last night."

His manner as he said this was the most quiet imaginable. His face and
body retained utter composure. Only his eyes moved, and they flashed a
subtle, dissolving fire. In them the whole intensity of the man's nature
was distilling itself.

Carrie made no answer.

"How can you act this way, dearest?" he inquired, after a time. "You
love me, don't you?"

He turned on her such a storm of feeling that she was overwhelmed. For
the moment all doubts were cleared away.

"Yes," she answered, frankly and tenderly.

"Well, then you'll come, won't you--come to-night?"

Carrie shook her head in spite of her distress.

"I can't wait any longer," urged Hurstwood. "If that is too soon, come
Saturday."

"When will we be married?" she asked, diffidently, forgetting in her
difficult situation that she had hoped he took her to be Drouet's wife.

The manager started, hit as he was by a problem which was more difficult
than hers. He gave no sign of the thoughts that flashed like messages to
his mind.

"Any time you say," he said, with ease, refusing to discolour his
present delight with this miserable problem.

"Saturday?" asked Carrie.

He nodded his head.

"Well, if you will marry me then," she said, "I'll go."

The manager looked at his lovely prize, so beautiful, so winsome, so
difficult to be won, and made strange resolutions. His passion had
gotten to that stage now where it was no longer coloured with reason. He
did not trouble over little barriers of this sort in the face of so much
loveliness. He would accept the situation with all its difficulties; he
would not try to answer the objections which cold truth thrust upon
him. He would promise anything, everything, and trust to fortune to
disentangle him. He would make a try for Paradise, whatever might be
the result. He would be happy, by the Lord, if it cost all honesty of
statement, all abandonment of truth.

Carrie looked at him tenderly. She could have laid her head upon his
shoulder, so delightful did it all seem. "Well," she said, "I'll try and
get ready then."

Hurstwood looked into her pretty face, crossed with little shadows
of wonder and misgiving, and thought he had never seen anything more
lovely.

"I'll see you again to-morrow," he said, joyously, "and we'll talk over
the plans."

He walked on with her, elated beyond words, so delightful had been the
result. He impressed a long story of joy and affection upon her, though
there was but here and there a word. After a half-hour he began to
realise that the meeting must come to an end, so exacting is the world.

"To-morrow," he said at parting, a gayety of manner adding wonderfully
to his brave demeanour.

"Yes," said Carrie, tripping elatedly away.

There had been so much enthusiasm engendered that she was believing
herself deeply in love. She sighed as she thought of her handsome
adorer. Yes, she would get ready by Saturday. She would go, and they
would be happy.

 Hurstwood and Carrie meet again in secret. They chat about how great her performance in the play was, then things turn serious and he begs her to go away with him. Carrie's not sure. She's still wondering whether Hurstwood knows that she and Drouet aren't really married, and she wonders if Hurstwood wants to marry her. He continues to beg, pleading with her to come with him tonight or Saturday at the latest. She asks if they can get married Saturday and he says yes, so she agrees. They're both thrilled--never mind the minor issue of Carrie's live-in lover or the fact that old Hurstwood is already married. They're in love. They agree to meet the next day to further discuss their plans.

