。， Carrie heard all this in a very ruffled state. It soundedsincere enough, however, despite all he had done. There was atenseness in Hurstwood's voice and manner which could but havesome effect. She did not want anything to do with him. He wasmarried, he had deceived her once, and now again, and she thoughthim terrible. Still there is something in such daring and powerwhich is fascinating to a woman, especially if she can be made tofeel that it is all prompted by love of her.
In time she began to feel that a change had come about, and thatshe was not in his confidence. He was evidently secretive andkept his own counsel. She found herself asking him questionsabout little things. This is a disagreeable state to a woman.Great love makes it seem reasonable, sometimes plausible, butnever satisfactory. Where great love is not, a more definite andless satisfactory conclusion is reached.。， "Well, if it has, it has," answered Hurstwood, grimly. He wouldnot give the other a key to his opinions, whatever they were. Heshould not have the satisfaction.
He looked, and there was the notice. Mr. August Viele hadyesterday registered the transfer of the lot, 25 x 75 feet, atthe corner of Warren and Hudson Streets, to J. F. Slawson for thesum of ,000.。， Carrie followed up this desultory conversation with occasionalinterruptions from the Vances. Several times it became generaland partially humorous, and in that manner the restaurant wasreached.
The tables were not so remarkable in themselves, and yet theimprint of Sherry upon the napery, the name of Tiffany upon thesilverware, the name of Haviland upon the china, and over all theglow of the small, red-shaded candelabra and the reflected tintsof the walls on garments and faces, made them seem remarkable.Each waiter added an air of exclusiveness and elegance by themanner in which he bowed, scraped, touched, and trifled withthings. The exclusively personal attention which he devoted toeach one, standing half bent, ear to one side, elbows akimbo,saying: "Soup--green turtle, yes. One portion, yes. Oysters--certainly--half-dozen--yes. Asparagus. Olives--yes."。，
。， Carrie felt this as a personal reproof. She read "Dora Thorne,"or had a great deal in the past. It seemed only fair to her, butshe supposed that people thought it very fine. Now this clear-eyed, fine-headed youth, who looked something like a student toher, made fun of it. It was poor to him, not worth reading. Shelooked down, and for the first time felt the pain of notunderstanding.
Vance led the way through lanes of shining tables, at which wereseated parties of two, three, four, five, or six. The air ofassurance and dignity about it all was exceedingly noticeable tothe novitiate. Incandescent lights, the reflection of their glowin polished glasses, and the shine of gilt upon the walls,combined into one tone of light which it requires minutes ofcomplacent observation to separate and take particular note of.The white shirt fronts of the gentlemen, the bright costumes ofthe ladies, diamonds, jewels, fine feathers--all were exceedinglynoticeable.。，
"Oh, I have," said Mrs. Vance. "He's written lots of things.This last story is pretty good."。， He was exceedingly nervous, but did his best to put on a calmexterior. Carrie only looked at him with large, troubled eyes.She was drifting mentally, unable to say to herself what to do.
The whole of this conversation was such a shock that, coming asit did after all the other worry of the past week, it sufficed toinduce a deep gloom and moral revulsion in Hurstwood. What hurthim most was the fact that he was being pursued as a thief. Hebegan to see the nature of that social injustice which sees butone side--often but a single point in a long tragedy. All thenewspapers noted but one thing, his taking the money. How andwherefore were but indifferently dealt with. All thecomplications which led up to it were unknown. He was accusedwithout being understood.。， They descended the stairs, Mrs. Vance offering suggestions, andclimbed into the open coach.
。， "I will," said Hurstwood, moving away. The whole conversationwas a trial to him. It seemed to add complications with veryword. This man called up a thousand memories. He representedeverything he had left. Chicago, his wife, the elegant resort--all these were in his greeting and inquiries. And here he was inthis same hotel expecting to confer with him, unquestionablywaiting to have a good time with him. All at once the Chicagopapers would arrive. The local papers would have accounts inthem this very day. He forgot his triumph with Carrie in thepossibility of soon being known for what he was, in this man'seyes, a safe-breaker. He could have groaned as he went into thebarber shop. He decided to escape and seek a more secludedhotel.
。， The words irritated Hurstwood greatly. Hot blood poured into hisbrain. Many thoughts formulated themselves. He was no thief.He didn't want the money. If he could only explain to Fitzgeraldand Moy, maybe it would be all right again.