"I guess I'll not try to go out to-day," he said to Carrie atbreakfast. "It's going to be awful bad, so the papers say."。， By degrees she began to use him. Doing this, however, she lostthe weekly payment of twelve dollars.
"I'll go down for a little while," he said after breakfast, "andthen I'll look around. To-morrow I'll spend the whole daylooking about. I think I can get something, now this thing's offmy hands."。， "Good-night," said Hurstwood at the final moment, in a lasteffort to be genial.
Carrie dropped the subject, feeling unable to say more.。， "I'm so glad to see you," said Carrie, pleased and yetnonplussed. Of all times, this was the worst to encounter Mrs.Vance. "Why, I'm living down town here. I've been intending tocome and see you. Where are you living now?"
。， He buried himself in his papers and read. Oh, the rest of it--the relief from walking and thinking! What Lethean waters werethese floods of telegraphed intelligence! He forgot his troubles,in part. Here was a young, handsome woman, if you might believethe newspaper drawing, suing a rich, fat, candy-making husband inBrooklyn for divorce. Here was another item detailing thewrecking of a vessel in ice and snow off Prince's Bay on StatenIsland. A long, bright column told of the doings in thetheatrical world--the plays produced, the actors appearing, themanagers making announcements. Fannie Davenport was just openingat the Fifth Avenue. Daly was producing "King Lear." He read ofthe early departure for the season of a party composed of theVanderbilts and their friends for Florida. An interestingshooting affray was on in the mountains of Kentucky. So he read,read, read, rocking in the warm room near the radiator andwaiting for dinner to be served.
This was a thunderbolt in camp.。， The next afternoon he was back again, seeking amusement andprofit. This time he followed up three of a kind to his doom.There was a better hand across the table, held by a pugnaciousIrish youth, who was a political hanger-on of the Tammanydistrict in which they were located. Hurstwood was surprised atthe persistence of this individual, whose bets came with a sang-froid which, if a bluff, was excellent art. Hurstwood began todoubt, but kept, or thought to keep, at least, the cool demeanourwith which, in olden times, he deceived those psychic students ofthe gaming table, who seem to read thoughts and moods, ratherthan exterior evidences, however subtle. He could not down thecowardly thought that this man had something better and wouldstay to the end, drawing his last dollar into the pot, should hechoose to go so far. Still, he hoped to win much--his hand wasexcellent. Why not raise it five more?
He felt a little diffident about asking concerning her success.The paper she began to scan attracted his attention.。， He folded his paper and drew near, silence holding for a time,except for the "Pass me's."
， That night he felt a cold coming on and took quinine. He wasfeverish until morning, and sat about the next day while Carriewaited on him. He was a helpless creature in sickness, not veryhandsome in a dull-coloured bath gown and his hair uncombed. Helooked haggard about the eyes and quite old. Carrie noticedthis, and it did not appeal to her. She wanted to be good-natured and sympathetic, but something about the man held heraloof.。，