He was so excited that he could not stay in the box. He wentinto the lobby, and then into the street, thinking. Drouet didnot return. In a few minutes the last act was over, and he wascrazy to have Carrie alone. He cursed the luck that could keephim smiling, bowing, shamming, when he wanted to tell her that heloved her, when he wanted to whisper to her alone. He groaned ashe saw that his hopes were futile. He must even take her tosupper, shamming. He finally went about and asked how she wasgetting along. The actors were all dressing, talking, hurryingabout. Drouet was palavering himself with the looseness ofexcitement and passion. The manager mastered himself only by agreat effort.。， "Were you at the performance last evening?" she asked of the nextof Hurstwood's friends who greeted her as she sat in her box.
"Yes, about two or three."。， Carrie looked at him a moment and forgot all about the companypresent. She began to feel the part, and summoned an indifferentsmile to her lips, turning as the lines directed and going to awindow, as if he were not present. She did it with a grace whichwas fascinating to look upon.
As the curtain for the next act arose, Drouet came back. He wasvery much enlivened in temper and inclined to whisper, butHurstwood pretended interest. He fixed his eyes on the stage,although Carrie was not there, a short bit of melodramatic comedypreceding her entrance. He did not see what was going on,however. He was thinking his own thoughts, and they werewretched.。， "If you do as well in the rest of the play, you will make us allthink you are a born actress."
Hurstwood blinked his eyes and caught the infection. Theradiating waves of feeling and sincerity were already breakingagainst the farthest walls of the chamber. The magic of passion,which will yet dissolve the world, was here at work.。，