What was the Warren Street resort?
Bah!
If one thinks that such thoughts do not come to so common a type of mind — that such feelings require a higher mental development — I would urge for their consideration the fact that it is the higher mental development that does away with such thoughts. It is the higher mental development which induces philosophy and that fortitude which refuses to dwell upon such things — refuses to be made to suffer by their consideration.
The common type of mind is exceedingly keen on all matters which relate to its physical welfare — exceedingly keen. It is the unintellectual miser who sweats blood at the loss of a hundred dollars.
It is the Epictetus who smiles when the last vestige of physical welfare is removed.
The time came, in the third year, when this thinking began to produce results in the Warren Street place.
The tide of patronage dropped a little below what it had been at its best since he had been there. This irritated and worried him.
There came a night when he confessed to Carrie that the business was not doing as well this month as it had the month before.
This was in lieu of certain suggestions she had made concerning little things she wanted to buy.
She had not failed to notice that he did not seem to consult her about buying clothes for himself.
For the first time, it struck her as a ruse, or that he said it so that she would not think of asking for things.
Her reply was mild enough, but her thoughts were rebellious.
He was not looking after her at all.
She was depending for her enjoyment upon the Vances.
And now the latter announced that they were going away.
It was approaching spring, and they were going North.
“Oh, yes,” said Mrs. Vance to Carrie, “we think we might as well give up the flat and store our things.
We’ll be gone for the summer, and it would be a useless expense.
I think we’ll settle a little farther down town when we come back.”
Carrie heard this with genuine sorrow.
She had enjoyed Mrs. Vance’s companionship so much. There was no one else in the house whom she knew.
Again she would be all alone.
Hurstwood’s gloom over the slight decrease in profits and the departure of the Vances came together.
So Carrie had loneliness and this mood of her husband to enjoy at the same time.
It was a grievous thing.
She became restless and dissatisfied, not exactly, as she thought, with Hurstwood, but with life.
What was it?
A very dull round indeed.
What did she have?
Nothing but this narrow, little flat.
The Vances could travel, they could do the things worth doing, and here she was.
For what was she made, anyhow?
More thought followed, and then tears — tears seemed justified, and the only relief in the world.
For another period this state continued, the twain leading a rather monotonous life, and then there was a slight change for the worse.
One evening, Hurstwood, after thinking about a way to modify Carrie’s desire for clothes and the general strain upon his ability to provide, said:
“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to do much with Shaughnessy.”
“What’s the matter?” said Carrie.
“Oh, he’s a slow, greedy ‘mick’!
He won’t agree to anything to improve the place, and it won’t ever pay without it.”
“Can’t you make him?” said Carrie.
“No; I’ve tried.
The only thing I can see, if I want to improve, is to get hold of a place of my own.”
“Why don’t you?” said Carrie.
“Well, all I have is tied up in there just now.
If I had a chance to save a while I think I could open a place that would give us plenty of money.”
“Can’t we save?” said Carrie.
“We might try it,” he suggested.
“I’ve been thinking that if we’d take a smaller flat down town and live economically for a year, I would have enough, with what I have invested, to open a good place.
Then we could arrange to live as you want to.”
“It would suit me all right,” said Carrie, who, nevertheless, felt badly to think it had come to this.