This pleased Hurstwood immensely. He gave Drouet no credit for any feelings toward Carrie whatever. He envied him, and now, as he looked at the well-dressed jolly salesman, whom he so much liked, the gleam of the rival glowed in his eye. He began to “size up” Drouet from the standpoints of wit and fascination. He began to look to see where he was weak. There was no disputing that, whatever he might think of him as a good fellow, he felt a certain amount of contempt for him as a lover. He could hoodwink him all right. Why, if he would just let Carrie see one such little incident as that of Thursday, it would settle the matter. He ran on in thought, almost exulting, the while he laughed and chatted, and Drouet felt nothing. He had no power of analysing the glance and the atmosphere of a man like Hurstwood. He stood and smiled and accepted the invitation while his friend examined him with the eye of a hawk. The object of this peculiarly involved comedy was not thinking of either. She was busy adjusting her thoughts and feelings to newer conditions, and was not in danger of suffering disturbing pangs from either quarter. One evening Drouet found her dressing herself before the glass. “Cad,” said he, catching her, “I believe you’re getting vain.” “Nothing of the kind,” she returned, smiling. “Well, you’re mighty pretty,” he went on, slipping his arm around her. “Put on that navy-blue dress of yours and I’ll take you to the show.” “Oh, I’ve promised Mrs. Hale to go with her to the Exposition to-night,” she returned, apologetically. “You did, eh?” he said, studying the situation abstractedly. “I wouldn’t care to go to that myself.” “Well, I don’t know,” answered Carrie, puzzling, but not offering to break her promise in his favour. Just then a knock came at their door and the maidservant handed a letter in. “He says there’s an answer expected,” she explained. “It’s from Hurstwood,” said Drouet, noting the superscription as he tore it open. “You are to come down and see Joe Jefferson with me to-night,” it ran in part. “It’s my turn, as we agreed the other day. All other bets are off.” “Well, what do you say to this?” asked Drouet, innocently, while Carrie’s mind bubbled with favourable replies. “You had better decide, Charlie,” she said, reservedly. “I guess we had better go, if you can break that engagement upstairs,” said Drouet. “Oh, I can,” returned Carrie without thinking. Drouet selected writing paper while Carrie went to change her dress. She hardly explained to herself why this latest invitation appealed to her most. “Shall I wear my hair as I did yesterday?” she asked, as she came out with several articles of apparel pending. “Sure,” he returned, pleasantly.