For another thing, Hurstwood missed the celebrities—those well-dressed, _élite_ individuals who lend grace to the average bars and bring news from far-off and exclusive circles. He did not see one such in a month. Evenings, when still at his post, he would occasionally read in the evening papers incidents concerning celebrities whom he knew—whom he had drunk a glass with many a time. They would visit a bar like Fitzgerald and Moy’s in Chicago, or the Hoffman House, uptown, but he knew that he would never see them down here. Again, the business did not pay as well as he thought. It increased a little, but he found he would have to watch his household expenses, which was humiliating. In the very beginning it was a delight to go home late at night, as he did, and find Carrie. He managed to run up and take dinner with her between six and seven, and to remain home until nine o’clock in the morning, but the novelty of this waned after a time, and he began to feel the drag of his duties. The first month had scarcely passed before Carrie said in a very natural way: “I think I’ll go down this week and buy a dress.’ “What kind?” said Hurstwood. “Oh, something for street wear.” “All right,” he answered, smiling, although he noted mentally that it would be more agreeable to his finances if she didn’t. Nothing was said about it the next day, but the following morning he asked: “Have you done anything about your dress?” “Not yet,” said Carrie. He paused a few moments, as if in thought, and then said: “Would you mind putting it off a few days?” “No,” replied Carrie, who did not catch the drift of his remarks. She had never thought of him in connection with money troubles before. “Why?” “Well, I’ll tell you,” said Hurstwood. “This investment of mine is taking a lot of money just now. I expect to get it all back shortly, but just at present I am running close.” “Oh!” answered Carrie. “Why, certainly, dear. Why didn’t you tell me before?” “It wasn’t necessary,” said Hurstwood. For all her acquiescence, there was something about the way Hurstwood spoke which reminded Carrie of Drouet and his little deal which he was always about to put through. It was only the thought of a second, but it was a beginning. It was something new in her thinking of Hurstwood.