He plunged his face in a basin of water, and puffed and blew as he rubbed his neck and ears with his hands, while Carrie gazed upon him with mingled thoughts of recollection and present judgment. He was still wiping his face, when he continued: “I’m going to strike for a raise in June. They can afford to pay it, as much business as I turn in. I’ll get it too, don’t you forget.” “I hope you do,” said Carrie. “And then if that little real estate deal I’ve got on goes through, we’ll get married,” he said with a great show of earnestness, the while he took his place before the mirror and began brushing his hair. “I don’t believe you ever intend to marry me, Charlie,” Carrie said ruefully. The recent protestations of Hurstwood had given her courage to say this. “Oh, yes I do—course I do—what put that into your head?” He had stopped his trifling before the mirror now and crossed over to her. For the first time Carrie felt as if she must move away from him. “But you’ve been saying that so long,” she said, looking with her pretty face upturned into his. “Well, and I mean it too, but it takes money to live as I want to. Now, when I get this increase, I can come pretty near fixing things all right, and I’ll do it. Now, don’t you worry, girlie.” He patted her reassuringly upon the shoulder, but Carrie felt how really futile had been her hopes. She could clearly see that this easy-going soul intended no move in her behalf. He was simply letting things drift because he preferred the free round of his present state to any legal trammellings. In contrast, Hurstwood appeared strong and sincere. He had no easy manner of putting her off. He sympathised with her and showed her what her true value was. He needed her, while Drouet did not care. “Oh, no,” she said remorsefully, her tone reflecting some of her own success and more of her helplessness, “you never will.” “Well, you wait a little while and see,” he concluded. “I’ll marry you all right.” Carrie looked at him and felt justified. She was looking for something which would calm her conscience, and here it was, a light, airy disregard of her claims upon his justice. He had faithfully promised to marry her, and this was the way he fulfilled his promise. “Say,” he said, after he had, as he thought, pleasantly disposed of the marriage question, “I saw Hurstwood to-day, and he wants us to go to the theatre with him.” Carrie started at the name, but recovered quickly enough to avoid notice. “When?” she asked, with assumed indifference. “Wednesday. We’ll go, won’t we?” “If you think so,” she answered, her manner being so enforcedly reserved as to almost excite suspicion. Drouet noticed something but he thought it was due to her feelings concerning their talk about marriage. “He called once, he said.” “Yes,” said Carrie, “he was out here Sunday evening.” “Was he?” said Drouet. “I thought from what he said that he had called a week or so ago.”