"Yes, and sleep. I can't go back to New York to-night."。, "Mr. Stevens," he said, referring to the author, "is preparing alittle song, which he would like you to sing next week."
"I'd be delighted, but I can't to-night," said Mrs. Vancestudying Carrie's fine appearance. The latter's good fortunemade her seem more than ever worthy and delightful in the otherseyes. "I promised faithfully to be home at six." Glancing at thesmall gold watch pinned to her bosom, she added: "I must begoing, too. Tell me when you're coming up, if at all."。, As she was standing in her proper position in the wings, awaitinganother entry, the great comedian made his exit past her andpaused in recognition.
。, He dropped the note and looked quietly round. Now he knew whathe missed. It was the little ornamental clock, which was hers.It had gone from the mantelpiece. He went into the front room,his bedroom, the parlour, lighting the gas as he went. From thechiffonier had gone the knick-knacks of silver and plate. Fromthe table-top, the lace coverings. He opened the wardrobe--noclothes of hers. He opened the drawers--nothing of hers. Hertrunk was gone from its accustomed place. Back in his own roomhung his old clothes, just as he had left them. Nothing else wasgone.
As she was standing in her proper position in the wings, awaitinganother entry, the great comedian made his exit past her andpaused in recognition.。, There was no water on this floor. He put on his shoes in thecold and stood up, shaking himself in his stiffness. His clothesfelt disagreeable, his hair bad.
。, She could not help sharing in Lola's love for a good time. Therewere days when they went carriage riding, nights when after theshow they dined, afternoons when they strolled along Broadway,tastefully dressed. She was getting in the metropolitan whirl ofpleasure.
"Did you?" asked Carrie.。, "I won't forget," said Carrie, casting a glance at her as shewent away. Then it came to her that she was as good as thiswoman now--perhaps better. Something in the other's solicitudeand interest made her feel as if she were the one to condescend.
。, There was another silence, in which the car ran smoothly along.There were not so many houses along this part of the way.Hurstwood did not see many people either. The situation was notwholly disagreeable to him. If he were not so cold, he thoughthe would do well enough.
。, "You're a dandy, Hurstwood," his friend Walker said. He wasstanding again well dressed, smiling, good-natured, the recipientof encores for a good story.
Sitting in the lodging-house room, he came to his last fiftycents. He had saved and counted until his health was affected.His stoutness had gone. With it, even the semblance of a fit inhis clothes. Now he decided he must do something, and, walkingabout, saw another day go by, bringing him down to his lasttwenty cents--not enough to eat for the morrow.。, At last, the chief comedian, singing in the centre of the stage,noticed a giggle where it was not expected. Then another andanother. When the place came for loud applause it was onlymoderate. What could be the trouble? He realised that somethingwas up.
"Oh, jolly! Have they?" cried Lola, running to her. "That's allright," she said, looking. "You'll get more now, if you do well.I had my picture in the 'World' once."。,