The effect of the city and his own situation on Hurstwood was paralleledin the case of Carrie, who accepted the things which fortune providedwith the most genial good-nature. New York, despite her first expressionof disapproval, soon interested her exceedingly. Its clear atmosphere,more populous thoroughfares, and peculiar indifference struck herforcibly. She had never seen such a little flat as hers, and yet it soonenlisted her affection. The new furniture made an excellent showing, thesideboard which Hurstwood himself arranged gleamed brightly. Thefurniture for each room was appropriate, and in the so-called parlour,or front room, was installed a piano, because Carrie said she would liketo learn to play. She kept a servant and developed rapidly in householdtactics and information. For the first time in her life she feltsettled, and somewhat justified in the eyes of society as she conceivedof it. Her thoughts were merry and innocent enough. For a long while sheconcerned herself over the arrangement of New York flats, and wonderedat ten families living in one building and all remaining strange andindifferent to each other. She also marvelled at the whistles of thehundreds of vessels in the harbour--the long, low cries of the Soundsteamers and ferry-boats when fog was on. The mere fact that thesethings spoke from the sea made them wonderful. She looked much at whatshe could see of the Hudson from her west windows and of the great citybuilding up rapidly on either hand. It was much to ponder over, andsufficed to entertain her for more than a year without becoming stale.

For another thing, Hurstwood was exceedingly interesting in hisaffection for her. Troubled as he was, he never exposed his difficultiesto her. He carried himself with the same self-important air, took hisnew state with easy familiarity, and rejoiced in Carrie's proclivitiesand successes. Each evening he arrived promptly to dinner, and found thelittle dining-room a most inviting spectacle. In a way, the smallness ofthe room added to its luxury. It looked full and replete. Thewhite-covered table was arrayed with pretty dishes and lighted with afour-armed candelabra, each light of which was topped with a red shade.Between Carrie and the girl the steaks and chops came out all right, andcanned goods did the rest for a while. Carrie studied the art of makingbiscuit, and soon reached the stage where she could show a plate oflight, palatable morsels for her labour.

In this manner the second, third, and fourth months passed. Winter came,and with it a feeling that indoors was best, so that the attending oftheatres was not much talked of. Hurstwood made great efforts to meetall expenditures without a show of feeling one way or the other. Hepretended that he was reinvesting his money in strengthening thebusiness for greater ends in the future. He contented himself with avery moderate allowance of personal apparel, and rarely suggestedanything for Carrie. Thus the first winter passed.

In the second year, the business which Hurstwood managed did increasesomewhat. He got out of it regularly the $150 per month which he hadanticipated. Unfortunately, by this time Carrie had reached certainconclusions, and he had scraped up a few acquaintances.

Being of a passive and receptive rather than an active and aggressivenature, Carrie accepted the situation. Her state seemed satisfactoryenough. Once in a while they would go to a theatre together,occasionally in season to the beaches and different points about thecity, but they picked up no acquaintances. Hurstwood naturally abandonedhis show of fine manners with her and modified his attitude to one ofeasy familiarity. There were no misunderstandings, no apparentdifferences of opinion. In fact, without money or visiting friends, heled a life which could neither arouse jealousy nor comment. Carrierather sympathised with his efforts and thought nothing upon her lack ofentertainment such as she had enjoyed in Chicago. New York as acorporate entity and her flat temporarily seemed sufficient.

However, as Hurstwood's business increased, he, as stated, began to pickup acquaintances. He also began to allow himself more clothes. Heconvinced himself that his home life was very precious to him, butallowed that he could occasionally stay away from dinner. The first timehe did this he sent a message saying that he would be detained. Carrieate alone, and wished that it might not happen again. The second time,also, he sent word, but at the last moment. The third time he forgotentirely and explained afterwards. These events were months apart, each.

"Where were you, George?" asked Carrie, after the first absence.

"Tied up at the office," he said genially. "There were some accounts Ihad to straighten."

"I'm sorry you couldn't get home," she said kindly. "I was fixing tohave such a nice dinner."

The second time he gave a similar excuse, but the third time the feelingabout it in Carrie's mind was a little bit out of the ordinary.

"I couldn't get home," he said, when he came in later in the evening, "Iwas so busy."

"Couldn't you have sent me word?" asked Carrie.

"I meant to," he said, "but you know I forgot it until it was too lateto do any good."

"And I had such a good dinner!" said Carrie.

Now, it so happened that from his observations of Carrie he began toimagine that she was of the thoroughly domestic type of mind. He reallythought, after a year, that her chief expression in life was finding itsnatural channel in household duties. Notwithstanding the fact that hehad observed her act in Chicago, and that during the past year he hadonly seen her limited in her relations to her flat and him by conditionswhich he made, and that she had not gained any friends or associates, hedrew this peculiar conclusion. With it came a feeling of satisfaction inhaving a wife who could thus be content, and this satisfaction workedits natural result. That is, since he imagined he saw her satisfied, hefelt called upon to give only that which contributed to suchsatisfaction. He supplied the furniture, the decorations, the food, andthe necessary clothing. Thoughts of entertaining her, leading her outinto the shine and show of life, grew less and less. He felt attractedto the outer world, but did not think she would care to go along. Oncehe went to the theatre alone. Another time he joined a couple of his newfriends at an evening game of poker. Since his money-feathers werebeginning to grow again he felt like sprucing about. All this, however,in a much less imposing way than had been his wont in Chicago. Heavoided the gay places where he would be apt to meet those who had knownhim.

Now, Carrie began to feel this in various sensory ways. She was not thekind to be seriously disturbed by his actions. Not loving him greatly,she could not be jealous in a disturbing way. In fact, she was notjealous at all. Hurstwood was pleased with her placid manner, when heshould have duly considered it. When he did not come home it did notseem anything like a terrible thing to her. She gave him credit forhaving the usual allurements of men--people to talk to, places to stop,friends to consult with. She was perfectly willing that he should enjoyhimself in his way, but she did not care to be neglected herself. Herstate still seemed fairly reasonable, however. All she did observe wasthat Hurstwood was somewhat different.

Some time in the second year of their residence in Seventy-eighth Streetthe flat across the hall from Carrie became vacant, and into it moved avery handsome young woman and her husband, with both of whom Carrieafterwards became acquainted. This was brought about solely by thearrangement of the flats, which were united in one place, as it were, bythe dumb-waiter. This useful elevator, by which fuel, groceries, and thelike were sent up from the basement, and garbage and waste sent down,was used by both residents of one floor; that is, a small door openedinto it from each flat.

If the occupants of both flats answered to the whistle of the janitor atthe same time, they would stand face to face when they opened thedumb-waiter doors. One morning, when Carrie went to remove her paper,the newcomer, a handsome brunette of perhaps twenty-three years of age,was there for a like purpose. She was in a night-robe anddressing-gown, with her hair very much tousled, but she looked so prettyand good-natured that Carrie instantly conceived a liking for her. Thenewcomer did no more than smile shamefacedly, but it was sufficient.Carrie felt that she would like to know her, and a similar feelingstirred in the mind of the other, who admired Carrie's innocent face.

"That's a real pretty woman who has moved in next door," said Carrie toHurstwood at the breakfast table.

"Who are they?" asked Hurstwood.

"I don't know," said Carrie. "The name on the bell is Vance. Some oneover there plays beautifully. I guess it must be she."

"Well, you never can tell what sort of people you're living next to inthis town, can you?" said Hurstwood, expressing the customary New Yorkopinion about neighbours.

"Just think," said Carrie, "I have been in this house with nine otherfamilies for over a year and I don't know a soul. These people have beenhere over a month and I haven't seen any one before this morning."

"It's just as well," said Hurstwood. "You never know who you're going toget in with. Some of these people are pretty bad company."

"I expect so," said Carrie, agreeably.

The conversation turned to other things, and Carrie thought no more uponthe subject until a day or two later, when, going out to market, sheencountered Mrs. Vance coming in. The latter recognised her and nodded,for which Carrie returned a smile. This settled the probability ofacquaintanceship. If there had been no faint recognition on thisoccasion, there would have been no future association.

Carrie saw no more of Mrs. Vance for several weeks, but she heard herplay through the thin walls which divided the front rooms of the flats,and was pleased by the merry selection of pieces and the brilliance oftheir rendition. She could play only moderately herself, and suchvariety as Mrs. Vance exercised bordered, for Carrie, upon the verge ofgreat art. Everything she had seen and heard thus far--the merest scrapsand shadows--indicated that these people were, in a measure, refined andin comfortable circumstances. So Carrie was ready for any extension ofthe friendship which might follow.

One day Carrie's bell rang and the servant, who was in the kitchen,pressed the button which caused the front door of the general entranceon the ground floor to be electrically unlatched. When Carrie waited ather own door on the third floor to see who it might be coming up to callon her, Mrs. Vance appeared.

"I hope you'll excuse me," she said. "I went out a while ago and forgotmy outside key, so I thought I'd ring your bell."

This was a common trick of other residents of the building, wheneverthey had forgotten their outside keys. They did not apologise for it,however.

"Certainly," said Carrie. "I'm glad you did. I do the same thingsometimes."

"Isn't it just delightful weather?" said Mrs. Vance, pausing for amoment.

Thus, after a few more preliminaries, this visiting acquaintance waswell launched, and in the young Mrs. Vance Carrie found an agreeablecompanion.

On several occasions Carrie visited her and was visited. Both flats weregood to look upon, though that of the Vances tended somewhat more to theluxurious.

"I want you to come over this evening and meet my husband," said Mrs.Vance, not long after their intimacy began. "He wants to meet you. Youplay cards, don't you?"

"A little," said Carrie.

"Well, we'll have a game of cards. If your husband comes home bring himover."

"He's not coming to dinner to-night," said Carrie.

"Well, when he does come we'll call him in."

Carrie acquiesced, and that evening met the portly Vance, an individuala few years younger than Hurstwood, and who owed his seeminglycomfortable matrimonial state much more to his money than to his goodlooks. He thought well of Carrie upon the first glance and laid himselfout to be genial, teaching her a new game of cards and talking to herabout New York and its pleasures. Mrs. Vance played some upon the piano,and at last Hurstwood came.

"I am very glad to meet you," he said to Mrs. Vance when Carrieintroduced him, showing much of the old grace which had captivatedCarrie.

"Did you think your wife had run away?" said Mr. Vance, extending hishand upon introduction.

"I didn't know but what she might have found a better husband," saidHurstwood.

He now turned his attention to Mrs. Vance, and in a flash Carrie sawagain what she for some time had sub-consciously missed inHurstwood--the adroitness and flattery of which he was capable. She alsosaw that she was not well dressed--not nearly as well dressed--as Mrs.Vance. These were not vague ideas any longer. Her situation was clearedup for her. She felt that her life was becoming stale, and therein shefelt cause for gloom. The old helpful, urging melancholy was restored.The desirous Carrie was whispered to concerning her possibilities.

There were no immediate results to this awakening, for Carrie hadlittle power of initiative; but, nevertheless, she seemed ever capableof getting herself into the tide of change where she would be easilyborne along. Hurstwood noticed nothing. He had been unconscious of themarked contrasts which Carrie had observed. He did not even detect theshade of melancholy which settled in her eyes. Worst of all, she nowbegan to feel the loneliness of the flat and seek the company of Mrs.Vance, who liked her exceedingly.

"Let's go to the matinée this afternoon," said Mrs. Vance, who hadstepped across into Carrie's flat one morning, still arrayed in a softpink dressing-gown, which she had donned upon rising. Hurstwood andVance had gone their separate ways nearly an hour before.

"All right," said Carrie, noticing the air of the petted andwell-groomed woman in Mrs. Vance's general appearance. She looked asthough she was dearly loved and her every wish gratified. "What shall wesee?"

"Oh, I do want to see Nat Goodwin," said Mrs. Vance. "I do think he isthe jolliest actor. The papers say this is such a good play."

"What time will we have to start?" asked Carrie.

"Let's go at one and walk down Broadway from Thirty-fourth Street," saidMrs. Vance. "It's such an interesting walk. He's at the Madison Square."

"I'll be glad to go," said Carrie. "How much will we have to pay forseats?"

"Not more than a dollar," said Mrs. Vance.

The latter departed, and at one o'clock reappeared, stunningly arrayedin a dark-blue walking dress, with a nobby hat to match. Carrie hadgotten herself up charmingly enough, but this woman pained her bycontrast. She seemed to have so many dainty little things which Carriehad not. There were trinkets of gold, an elegant green leather purseset with her initials, a fancy handkerchief, exceedingly rich in design,and the like. Carrie felt that she needed more and better clothes tocompare with this woman, and that any one looking at the two would pickMrs. Vance for her raiment alone. It was a trying, though rather unjustthought, for Carrie had now developed an equally pleasing figure, andhad grown in comeliness until she was a thoroughly attractive type ofher colour of beauty. There was some difference in the clothing of thetwo, both of quality and age, but this difference was not especiallynoticeable. It served, however, to augment Carrie's dissatisfaction withher state.

The walk down Broadway, then as now, was one of the remarkable featuresof the city. There gathered, before the matinée and afterwards, not onlyall the pretty women who love a showy parade, but the men who love togaze upon and admire them. It was a very imposing procession of prettyfaces and fine clothes. Women appeared in their very best hats, shoes,and gloves, and walked arm in arm on their way to the fine shops ortheatres strung along from Fourteenth to Thirty-fourth streets. Equallythe men paraded with the very latest they could afford. A tailor mighthave secured hints on suit measurements, a shoemaker on proper lasts andcolours, a hatter on hats. It was literally true that if a lover of fineclothes secured a new suit, it was sure to have its first airing onBroadway. So true and well understood was this fact, that several yearslater a popular song, detailing this and other facts concerning theafternoon parade on matinée days, and entitled "What Right Has He onBroadway?" was published, and had quite a vogue about the music-halls ofthe city.

In all her stay in the city, Carrie had never heard of this showyparade; had never even been on Broadway when it was taking place. On theother hand, it was a familiar thing to Mrs. Vance, who not only knew ofit as an entity, but had often been in it, going purposely to see and beseen, to create a stir with her beauty and dispel any tendency to fallshort in dressiness by contrasting herself with the beauty and fashionof the town.

Carrie stepped along easily enough after they got out of the car atThirty-fourth Street, but soon fixed her eyes upon the lovely companywhich swarmed by and with them as they proceeded. She noticed suddenlythat Mrs. Vance's manner had rather stiffened under the gaze of handsomemen and elegantly dressed ladies, whose glances were not modified by anyrules of propriety. To stare seemed the proper and natural thing. Carriefound herself stared at and ogled. Men in flawless top-coats, high hats,and silver-headed walking sticks elbowed near and looked too often intoconscious eyes. Ladies rustled by in dresses of stiff cloth, sheddingaffected smiles and perfume. Carrie noticed among them the sprinkling ofgoodness and the heavy percentage of vice. The rouged and powderedcheeks and lips, the scented hair, the large, misty, and languorous eye,were common enough. With a start she awoke to find that she was infashion's crowd, on parade in a show place--and such a show place!Jewellers' windows gleamed along the path with remarkable frequency.Florist shops, furriers, haberdashers, confectioners--all followed inrapid succession. The street was full of coaches. Pompous doormen inimmense coats, shiny brass belts and buttons, waited in front ofexpensive salesrooms. Coachmen in tan boots, white tights, and bluejackets waited obsequiously for the mistresses of carriages who wereshopping inside. The whole street bore the flavour of riches and show,and Carrie felt that she was not of it. She could not, for the life ofher, assume the attitude and smartness of Mrs. Vance, who, in herbeauty, was all assurance. She could only imagine that it must beevident to many that she was the less handsomely dressed of the two. Itcut her to the quick, and she resolved that she would not come hereagain until she looked better. At the same time she longed to feel thedelight of parading here as an equal. Ah, then she would be happy!