Passion in a man of Hurstwood's nature takes a vigorous form. It is nomusing, dreamy thing. There is none of the tendency to sing outside ofmy lady's window--to languish and repine in the face of difficulties. Inthe night he was long getting to sleep because of too much thinking, andin the morning he was early awake, seizing with alacrity upon the samedear subject and pursuing it with vigour. He was out of sortsphysically, as well as disordered mentally, for did he not delight in anew manner in his Carrie, and was not Drouet in the way? Never was manmore harassed than he by the thoughts of his love being held by theelated, flush-mannered drummer. He would have given anything, it seemedto him, to have the complication ended--to have Carrie acquiesce to anarrangement which would dispose of Drouet effectually and forever.

What to do. He dressed thinking. He moved about in the same chamber withhis wife, unmindful of her presence.

At breakfast he found himself without an appetite. The meat to which hehelped himself remained on his plate untouched. His coffee grew cold,while he scanned the paper indifferently. Here and there he read alittle thing, but remembered nothing. Jessica had not yet come down. Hiswife sat at one end of the table revolving thoughts of her own insilence. A new servant had been recently installed and had forgot thenapkins. On this account the silence was irritably broken by a reproof.

"I've told you about this before, Maggie," said Mrs. Hurstwood. "I'm notgoing to tell you again."

Hurstwood took a glance at his wife. She was frowning. Just now hermanner irritated him excessively. Her next remark was addressed to him.

"Have you made up your mind, George, when you will take your vacation?"

It was customary for them to discuss the regular summer outing at thisseason of the year.

"Not yet," he said, "I'm very busy just now."

"Well, you'll want to make up your mind pretty soon, won't you, if we'regoing?" she returned.

"I guess we have a few days yet," he said.

"Hmff," she returned. "Don't wait until the season's over."

She stirred in aggravation as she said this.

"There you go again," he observed. "One would think I never didanything, the way you begin."

"Well, I want to know about it," she reiterated.

"You've got a few days yet," he insisted. "You'll not want to startbefore the races are over."

He was irritated to think that this should come up when he wished tohave his thoughts for other purposes.

"Well, we may. Jessica doesn't want to stay until the end of the races."

"What did you want with a season ticket, then?"

"Uh!" she said, using the sound as an exclamation of disgust, "I'll notargue with you," and therewith arose to leave the table.

"Say," he said, rising, putting a note of determination in his voicewhich caused her to delay her departure, "what's the matter with you oflate? Can't I talk with you any more?"

"Certainly, you can _talk_ with me," she replied, laying emphasis on theword.

"Well, you wouldn't think so by the way you act. Now, you want to knowwhen I'll be ready--not for a month yet. Maybe not then."

"We'll go without you."

"You will, eh?" he sneered.

"Yes, we will."

He was astonished at the woman's determination, but it only irritatedhim the more.

"Well, we'll see about that. It seems to me you're trying to run thingswith a pretty high hand of late. You talk as though you settled myaffairs for me. Well, you don't. You don't regulate anything that'sconnected with me. If you want to go, go, but you won't hurry me by anysuch talk as that."

He was thoroughly aroused now. His dark eyes snapped, and he crunchedhis paper as he laid it down. Mrs. Hurstwood said nothing more. He wasjust finishing when she turned on her heel and went out into the halland upstairs. He paused for a moment, as if hesitating, then sat downand drank a little coffee, and thereafter arose and went for his hat andgloves upon the main floor.

His wife had really not anticipated a row of this character. She hadcome down to the breakfast table feeling a little out of sorts withherself and revolving a scheme which she had in her mind. Jessica hadcalled her attention to the fact that the races were not what they weresupposed to be. The social opportunities were not what they had thoughtthey would be this year. The beautiful girl found going every day a dullthing. There was an earlier exodus this year of people who were anybodyto the watering places and Europe. In her own circle of acquaintancesseveral young men in whom she was interested had gone to Waukesha. Shebegan to feel that she would like to go too, and her mother agreed withher.

Accordingly, Mrs. Hurstwood decided to broach the subject. She wasthinking this over when she came down to the table, but for some reasonthe atmosphere was wrong. She was not sure, after it was all over, justhow the trouble had begun. She was determined now, however, that herhusband was a brute, and that, under no circumstances, would she letthis go by unsettled. She would have more lady-like treatment or shewould know why.

For his part, the manager was loaded with the care of this new argumentuntil he reached his office and started from there to meet Carrie. Thenthe other complications of love, desire, and opposition possessed him.His thoughts fled on before him upon eagles' wings. He could hardly waituntil he should meet Carrie face to face. What was the night, after all,without her--what the day? She must and should be his.

For her part, Carrie had experienced a world of fancy and feeling sinceshe had left him, the night before. She had listened to Drouet'senthusiastic maunderings with much regard for that part which concernedherself, with very little for that which affected his own gain. She kepthim at such lengths as she could, because her thoughts were with her owntriumph. She felt Hurstwood's passion as a delightful background to herown achievement, and she wondered what he would have to say. She wassorry for him, too, with that peculiar sorrow which finds somethingcomplimentary to itself in the misery of another. She was nowexperiencing the first shades of feeling of that subtle change whichremoves one out of the ranks of the suppliants into the lines of thedispensers of charity. She was, all in all, exceedingly happy.

On the morrow, however, there was nothing in the papers concerning theevent, and, in view of the flow of common, everyday things about, it nowlost a shade of the glow of the previous evening. Drouet himself was nottalking so much _of_ as _for_ her. He felt instinctively that, for somereason or other, he needed reconstruction in her regard.

"I think," he said, as he spruced around their chambers the nextmorning, preparatory to going down town, "that I'll straighten out thatlittle deal of mine this month and then we'll get married. I was talkingwith Mosher about that yesterday."

"No, you won't," said Carrie, who was coming to feel a certain faintpower to jest with the drummer.

"Yes, I will," he exclaimed, more feelingly than usual, adding, with thetone of one who pleads, "Don't you believe what I've told you?"

Carrie laughed a little.

"Of course I do," she answered.

Drouet's assurance now misgave him. Shallow as was his mentalobservation, there was that in the things which had happened which madehis little power of analysis useless. Carrie was still with him, but nothelpless and pleading. There was a lilt in her voice which was new. Shedid not study him with eyes expressive of dependence. The drummer wasfeeling the shadow of something which was coming. It coloured hisfeelings and made him develop those little attentions and say thoselittle words which were mere forefendations against danger.

Shortly afterward he departed, and Carrie prepared for her meeting withHurstwood. She hurried at her toilet, which was soon made, and hasteneddown the stairs. At the corner she passed Drouet, but they did not seeeach other.

The drummer had forgotten some bills which he wished to turn into hishouse. He hastened up the stairs and burst into the room, but foundonly the chambermaid, who was cleaning up.

"Hello," he exclaimed, half to himself, "has Carrie gone?"

"Your wife? Yes, she went out just a few minutes ago."

"That's strange," thought Drouet. "She didn't say a word to me. I wonderwhere she went?"

He hastened about, rummaging in his valise for what he wanted, andfinally pocketing it. Then he turned his attention to his fairneighbour, who was good-looking and kindly disposed towards him.

"What are you up to?" he said, smiling.

"Just cleaning," she replied, stopping and winding a dusting towel abouther hand.

"Tired of it?"

"Not so very."

"Let me show you something," he said, affably, coming over and takingout of his pocket a little lithographed card which had been issued by awholesale tobacco company. On this was printed a picture of a prettygirl, holding a striped parasol, the colours of which could be changedby means of a revolving disk in the back, which showed red, yellow,green, and blue through little interstices made in the ground occupiedby the umbrella top.

"Isn't that clever?" he said, handing it to her and showing her how itworked. "You never saw anything like that before."

"Isn't it nice?" she answered.

"You can have it if you want it," he remarked.

"That's a pretty ring you have," he said, touching a commonplace settingwhich adorned the hand holding the card he had given her.

"Do you think so?"

"That's right," he answered, making use of a pretence at examination tosecure her finger. "That's fine."

The ice being thus broken, he launched into further observation,pretending to forget that her fingers were still retained by his. Shesoon withdrew them, however, and retreated a few feet to rest againstthe window-sill.

"I didn't see you for a long time," she said, coquettishly, repulsingone of his exuberant approaches. "You must have been away."

"I was," said Drouet.

"Do you travel far?"

"Pretty far--yes."

"Do you like it?"

"Oh, not very well. You get tired of it after a while."

"I wish I could travel," said the girl, gazing idly out of the window.

"What has become of your friend, Mr. Hurstwood?" she suddenly asked,bethinking herself of the manager, who, from her own observation, seemedto contain promising material.

"He's here in town. What makes you ask about him?"

"Oh, nothing, only he hasn't been here since you got back."

"How did you come to know him?"

"Didn't I take up his name a dozen times in the last month?"

"Get out," said the drummer, lightly. "He hasn't called more than half adozen times since we've been here."

"He hasn't, eh?" said the girl, smiling. "That's all you know about it."

Drouet took on a slightly more serious tone. He was uncertain as towhether she was joking or not.

"Tease," he said, "what makes you smile that way?"

"Oh, nothing."

"Have you seen him recently?"

"Not since you came back," she laughed.

"Before?"

"Certainly."

"How often?"

"Why, nearly every day."

She was a mischievous newsmonger, and was keenly wondering what theeffect of her words would be.

"Who did he come to see?" asked the drummer, incredulously.

"Mrs. Drouet."

He looked rather foolish at this answer, and then attempted to correcthimself so as not to appear a dupe.

"Well," he said, "what of it?"

"Nothing," replied the girl, her head cocked coquettishly on one side.

"He's an old friend," he went on, getting deeper into the mire.

He would have gone on further with his little flirtation, but the tastefor it was temporarily removed. He was quite relieved when the girl'sname was called from below.

"I've got to go," she said, moving away from him airily.

"I'll see you later," he said, with a pretence of disturbance at beinginterrupted.

When she was gone, he gave freer play to his feelings. His face, nevereasily controlled by him, expressed all the perplexity and disturbancewhich he felt. Could it be that Carrie had received so many visits andyet said nothing about them? Was Hurstwood lying? What did thechambermaid mean by it, anyway? He had thought there was something oddabout Carrie's manner at the time. Why did she look so disturbed when hehad asked her how many times Hurstwood had called? By George! heremembered now. There was something strange about the whole thing.

He sat down in a rocking-chair to think the better, drawing up one legon his knee and frowning mightily. His mind ran on at a great rate.

And yet Carrie hadn't acted out of the ordinary. It couldn't be, byGeorge, that she was deceiving him. She hadn't acted that way. Why, evenlast night she had been as friendly toward him as could be, andHurstwood too. Look how they acted! He could hardly believe they wouldtry to deceive him.

His thoughts burst into words.

"She did act sort of funny at times. Here she had dressed and gone outthis morning and never said a word."

He scratched his head and prepared to go down town. He was stillfrowning. As he came into the hall he encountered the girl, who was nowlooking after another chamber. She had on a white dusting cap, beneathwhich her chubby face shone good-naturedly. Drouet almost forgot hisworry in the fact that she was smiling on him. He put his handfamiliarly on her shoulder, as if only to greet her in passing.

"Got over being mad?" she said, still mischievously inclined.

"I'm not mad," he answered.

"I thought you were," she said, smiling.

"Quit your fooling about that," he said, in an offhand way. "Were youserious?"

"Certainly," she answered. Then, with an air of one who did notintentionally mean to create trouble, "He came lots of times. I thoughtyou knew."

The game of deception was up with Drouet. He did not try to simulateindifference further.

"Did he spend the evenings here?" he asked.

"Sometimes. Sometimes they went out."

"In the evening?"

"Yes. You mustn't look so mad, though."

"I'm not," he said. "Did any one else see him?"

"Of course," said the girl, as if, after all, it were nothing inparticular.

"How long ago was this?"

"Just before you came back."

The drummer pinched his lip nervously.

"Don't say anything, will you?" he asked, giving the girl's arm a gentlesqueeze.

"Certainly not," she returned. "I wouldn't worry over it."

"All right," he said, passing on, seriously brooding for once, and yetnot wholly unconscious of the fact that he was making a most excellentimpression upon the chambermaid.

"I'll see her about that," he said to himself, passionately, feelingthat he had been unduly wronged. "I'll find out, b'George, whethershe'll act that way or not."