"Why, it's Hurstwood!" said Cargill, remembering now, and sorrythat he had not recognised him quickly enough in the beginning tohave avoided this meeting.。， They looked at one another, rather embarrassed.
。， While he was idly pondering, satisfied to be inside, a well-dressed man passed up the lobby, stopped, looked sharply, as ifnot sure of his memory, and then approached. Hurstwoodrecognised Cargill, the owner of the large stables in Chicago ofthe same name, whom he had last seen at Avery Hall, the nightCarrie appeared there. The remembrance of how this individualbrought up his wife to shake hands on that occasion was also onthe instant clear.
"Well, do you want to get in a comedy or on the vaudeville or inthe chorus?"。， For some days thereafter he put on his overcoat regularly in themorning and sallied forth. On these ventures he first consoledhimself with the thought that with the seven hundred dollars hehad he could still make some advantageous arrangement. Hethought about going to some brewery, which, as he knew,frequently controlled saloons which they leased, and get them tohelp him. Then he remembered that he would have to pay outseveral hundred any way for fixtures and that he would havenothing left for his monthly expenses. It was costing him nearlyeighty dollars a month to live.
In a day or two he was up again, but rough weather holding, hestayed in. The Italian newsdealer now delivered the morningpapers, and these he read assiduously. A few times after that heventured out, but meeting another of his old-time friends, hebegan to feel uneasy sitting about hotel corridors.。，
。， The next morning he looked over the papers and waded through along list of advertisements, making a few notes. Then he turnedto the male-help-wanted column, but with disagreeable feelings.The day was before him--a long day in which to discoversomething--and this was how he must begin to discover. Hescanned the long column, which mostly concerned bakers,bushelmen, cooks, compositors, drivers, and the like, finding twothings only which arrested his eye. One was a cashier wanted ina wholesale furniture house, and the other a salesman for awhiskey house. He had never thought of the latter. At once hedecided to look that up.
Of course, as his own self-respect vanished, it perished for himin Carrie. She could not understand what had gotten into theman. He had some money, he had a decent suit remaining, he wasnot bad looking when dressed up. She did not forget her owndifficult struggle in Chicago, but she did not forget either thatshe had never ceased trying. He never tried. He did not evenconsult the ads in the papers any more.。，
"How much money have you left?"。， On such occasions, his money went also. He knew of several pokerrooms down town. A few acquaintances he had in downtown resortsand about the City Hall. It was a change to see them andexchange a few friendly commonplaces.
。， His dinner cost him .50. By eight o'clock he was through, andthen, seeing guests leaving and the crowd of pleasure-seekersthickening outside wondered where he should go. Not home.Carrie would be up. No, he would not go back there this evening.He would stay out and knock around as a man who was independent--not broke--well might. He bought a cigar, and went outside onthe corner where other individuals were lounging--brokers, racingpeople, thespians--his own flesh and blood. As he stood there,he thought of the old evenings in Chicago, and how he used todispose of them. Many's the game he had had. This took him topoker.
， With this loss and ordinary expenses, so much had already gone.。， Hurstwood's brow was wet. He was deep in now--very deep for him.Sixty dollars of his good money was up. He was ordinarily nocoward, but the thought of losing so much weakened him. Finallyhe gave way. He would not trust to this fine hand any longer.