"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 to-night. I have an early engagement to-morrow." "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 to-night," 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 to-morrow," 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.