The colour came to his cheeks. For the moment he forgot the letter from McGregor, James and Hay. If he could only have Carrie, perhaps he could get out of the whole entanglement—perhaps it would not matter. He wouldn’t care what his wife did with herself if only he might not lose Carrie. He stood up and walked about, dreaming his delightful dream of a life continued with this lovely possessor of his heart. It was not long, however, before the old worry was back for consideration, and with it what weariness! He thought of the morrow and the suit. He had done nothing, and here was the afternoon slipping away. It was now a quarter of four. At five the attorneys would have gone home. He still had the morrow until noon. Even as he thought, the last fifteen minutes passed away and it was five. Then he abandoned the thought of seeing them any more that day and turned to Carrie. It is to be observed that the man did not justify himself to himself. He was not troubling about that. His whole thought was the possibility of persuading Carrie. Nothing was wrong in that. He loved her dearly. Their mutual happiness depended upon it. Would that Drouet were only away! While he was thinking thus elatedly, he remembered that he wanted some clean linen in the morning. This he purchased, together with a half-dozen ties, and went to the Palmer House. As he entered he thought he saw Drouet ascending the stairs with a key. Surely not Drouet! Then he thought, perhaps they had changed their abode temporarily. He went straight up to the desk. “Is Mr. Drouet stopping here?” he asked of the clerk. “I think he is,” said the latter, consulting his private registry list. “Yes.” “Is that so?” exclaimed Hurstwood, otherwise concealing his astonishment. “Alone?” he added. “Yes,” said the clerk. Hurstwood turned away and set his lips so as best to express and conceal his feelings. “How’s that?” he thought. “They’ve had a row.” He hastened to his room with rising spirits and changed his linen. As he did so, he made up his mind that if Carrie was alone, or if she had gone to another place, it behooved him to find out. He decided to call at once. “I know what I’ll do,” he thought. “I’ll go to the door and ask if Mr. Drouet is at home. That will bring out whether he is there or not and where Carrie is.” He was almost moved to some muscular display as he thought of it. He decided to go immediately after supper. On coming down from his room at six, he looked carefully about to see if Drouet was present and then went out to lunch. He could scarcely eat, however, he was so anxious to be about his errand. Before starting he thought it well to discover where Drouet would be, and returned to his hotel. “Has Mr. Drouet gone out?” he asked of the clerk. “No,” answered the latter, “he’s in his room. Do you wish to send up a card?” “No, I’ll call around later,” answered Hurstwood, and strolled out.