"First call for dinner in the dining-car," a Pullman servitor wasannouncing, as he hastened through the aisle in snow-white apronand jacket.。， "Ten thousand dollars. I heard he sent most of it backafterwards, though."
。， In the city, at that time, there were a number of charitiessimilar in nature to that of the captain's, which Hurstwood nowpatronised in a like unfortunate way. One was a convent mission-house of the Sisters of Mercy in Fifteenth Street--a row of redbrick family dwellings, before the door of which hung a plainwooden contribution box, on which was painted the statement thatevery noon a meal was given free to all those who might apply andask for aid. This simple announcement was modest in the extreme,covering, as it did, a charity so broad. Institutions andcharities are so large and so numerous in New York that suchthings as this are not often noticed by the more comfortablysituated. But to one whose mind is upon the matter, they growexceedingly under inspection. Unless one were looking up thismatter in particular, he could have stood at Sixth Avenue andFifteenth Street for days around the noon hour and never havenoticed that out of the vast crowd that surged along that busythoroughfare there turned out, every few seconds, some weather-beaten, heavy-footed specimen of humanity, gaunt in countenanceand dilapidated in the matter of clothes. The fact is none theless true, however, and the colder the day the more apparent itbecame. Space and a lack of culinary room in the mission-house,compelled an arrangement which permitted of only twenty-five orthirty eating at one time, so that a line had to be formedoutside and an orderly entrance effected. This caused a dailyspectacle which, however, had become so common by repetitionduring a number of years that now nothing was thought of it. Themen waited patiently, like cattle, in the coldest weather--waitedfor several hours before they could be admitted. No questionswere asked and no service rendered. They ate and went awayagain, some of them returning regularly day after day the winterthrough.
In the lobby of the Imperial, Mr. Charles Drouet was justarriving, shaking the snow from a very handsome ulster. Badweather had driven him home early and stirred his desire forthose pleasures which shut out the snow and gloom of life. Agood dinner, the company of a young woman, and an evening at thetheatre were the chief things for him.。，
For days this apparition was a drag on her soul before it beganto wear partially away. Drouet called again, but now he was noteven seen by her. His attentions seemed out of place.。， "Me? Oh, a little, maybe."
， The next day Drouet called, but it was with no especial delightthat Carrie remembered her appointment. However, seeing him,handsome as ever, after his kind, and most genially disposed, herdoubts as to whether the dinner would be disagreeable were sweptaway. He talked as volubly as ever.。， "Oh, nothing," she answered; "I've always thought so."