Sister Carrie - Theodore Dreiser (good non fiction books to read txt) 📗

up the creaky stairs, Hurstwood looked back and saw the captain, watching; the last one of the line being included in his broad solicitude. Then he gathered his cloak about him and strolled out into the night.

“I can’t stand much of this,” said Hurstwood, whose legs ached him painfully, as he sat down upon the miserable bunk in the small, lightless chamber allotted to him. “I’ve got to eat, or I’ll die.”

XLVI Stirring Troubled Waters

Playing in New York one evening on this her return, Carrie was putting the finishing touches to her toilet before leaving for the night, when a commotion near the stage door caught her ear. It included a familiar voice.

“Never mind, now. I want to see Miss Madenda.”

“You’ll have to send in your card.”

“Oh, come off! Here.”

A half-dollar was passed over, and now a knock came at her dressing-room door.

Carrie opened it.

“Well, well!” said Drouet. “I do swear! Why, how are you? I knew that was you the moment I saw you.”

Carrie fell back a pace, expecting a most embarrassing conversation.

“Aren’t you going to shake hands with me? Well, you’re a dandy! That’s all right, shake hands.”

Carrie put out her hand, smiling, if for nothing more than the man’s exuberant good-nature. Though older, he was but slightly changed. The same fine clothes, the same stocky body, the same rosy countenance.

“That fellow at the door there didn’t want to let me in, until I paid him. I knew it was you, all right. Say, you’ve got a great show. You do your part fine. I knew you would. I just happened to be passing tonight and thought I’d drop in for a few minutes. I saw your name on the programme, but I didn’t remember it until you came on the stage. Then it struck me all at once. Say, you could have knocked me down with a feather. That’s the same name you used out there in Chicago, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” answered Carrie, mildly, overwhelmed by the man’s assurance.

“I knew it was, the moment I saw you. Well, how have you been, anyhow?”

“Oh, very well,” said Carrie, lingering in her dressing-room. She was rather dazed by the assault. “How have you been?”

“Me? Oh, fine. I’m here now.”

“Is that so?” said Carrie.

“Yes. I’ve been here for six months. I’ve got charge of a branch here.”

“How nice!”

“Well, when did you go on the stage, anyhow?” inquired Drouet.

“About three years ago,” said Carrie.

“You don’t say so! Well, sir, this is the first I’ve heard of it. I knew you would, though. I always said you could act⁠—didn’t I?”

Carrie smiled.

“Yes, you did,” she said.

“Well, you do look great,” he said. “I never saw anybody improve so. You’re taller, aren’t you?”

“Me? Oh, a little, maybe.”

He gazed at her dress, then at her hair, where a becoming hat was set jauntily, then into her eyes, which she took all occasion to avert. Evidently he expected to restore their old friendship at once and without modification.

“Well,” he said, seeing her gather up her purse, handkerchief, and the like, preparatory to departing, “I want you to come out to dinner with me; won’t you? I’ve got a friend out here.”

“Oh, I can’t,” said Carrie. “Not tonight. I have an early engagement tomorrow.”

“Aw, let the engagement go. Come on. I can get rid of him. I want to have a good talk with you.”

“No, no,” said Carrie; “I can’t. You mustn’t ask me any more. I don’t care for a late dinner.”

“Well, come on and have a talk, then, anyhow.”

“Not tonight,” she said, shaking her head. “We’ll have a talk some other time.”

As a result of this, she noticed a shade of thought pass over his face, as if he were beginning to realise that things were changed. Good-nature dictated something better than this for one who had always liked her.

“You come around to the hotel tomorrow,” she said, as sort of penance for error. “You can take dinner with me.”

“All right,” said Drouet, brightening. “Where are you stopping?”

“At the Waldorf,” she answered, mentioning the fashionable hostelry then but newly erected.

“What time?”

“Well, come at three,” said Carrie, pleasantly.

The next day Drouet called, but it was with no especial delight that Carrie remembered her appointment. However, seeing him, handsome as ever, after his kind, and most genially disposed, her doubts as to whether the dinner would be disagreeable were swept away. He talked as volubly as ever.

“They put on a lot of lugs here, don’t they?” was his first remark.

“Yes; they do,” said Carrie.

Genial egotist that he was, he went at once into a detailed account of his own career.

“I’m going to have a business of my own pretty soon,” he observed in one place. “I can get backing for two hundred thousand dollars.”

Carrie listened most good-naturedly.

“Say,” he said, suddenly; “where is Hurstwood now?”

Carrie flushed a little.

“He’s here in New York, I guess,” she said. “I haven’t seen him for some time.”

Drouet mused for a moment. He had not been sure until now that the ex-manager was not an influential figure in the background. He imagined not; but this assurance relieved him. It must be that Carrie had got rid of him⁠—as well she ought, he thought.

“A man always makes a mistake when he does anything like that,” he observed.

“Like what?” said Carrie, unwitting of what was coming.

“Oh, you know,” and Drouet waved her intelligence, as it were, with his hand.

“No, I don’t,” she answered. “What do you mean?”

“Why that affair in Chicago⁠—the time he left.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” said Carrie. Could it be he would refer so rudely to Hurstwood’s flight with her?

“Oho!” said Drouet, incredulously. “You knew he took ten thousand dollars with him when he left, didn’t you?”

“What!” said Carrie. “You don’t mean to say he stole money, do you?”

“Why,” said Drouet, puzzled at her tone, “you knew that, didn’t you?”

“Why, no,” said Carrie. “Of course I didn’t.”

“Well, that’s funny,” said Drouet. “He did, you know. It was in all the papers.”

“How much did you