“To make it good, of course,” she answered.
“Butter is awful dear these days,” he suggested.
“You wouldn’t mind it if you were working,” she answered.
He shut up after this, and went in to his paper, but the retort rankled in his mind.
It was the first cutting remark that had come from her.
That same evening, Carrie, after reading, went off to the front room to bed.
This was unusual.
When Hurstwood decided to go, he retired, as usual, without a light.
It was then that he discovered Carrie’s absence.
“That’s funny,” he said; “maybe she’s sitting up.”
He gave the matter no more thought, but slept. In the morning she was not beside him.
Strange to say, this passed without comment.
Night approaching, and a slightly more conversational feeling prevailing, Carrie said:
“I think I’ll sleep alone to-night. I have a headache.”
“All right,” said Hurstwood.
The third night she went to her front bed without apologies.
This was a grim blow to Hurstwood, but he never mentioned it.
“All right,” he said to himself, with an irrepressible frown, “let her sleep alone.”
Chapter XXXVI
A Grim Retrogression — The Phantom of Chance
The Vances, who had been back in the city ever since Christmas, had not forgotten Carrie; but they, or rather Mrs. Vance, had never called on her, for the very simple reason that Carrie had never sent her address.
True to her nature, she corresponded with Mrs. Vance as long as she still lived in Seventy-eighth Street, but when she was compelled to move into Thirteenth, her fear that the latter would take it as an indication of reduced circumstances caused her to study some way of avoiding the necessity of giving her address.
Not finding any convenient method, she sorrowfully resigned the privilege of writing to her friend entirely.
The latter wondered at this strange silence, thought Carrie must have left the city, and in the end gave her up as lost.
So she was thoroughly surprised to encounter her in Fourteenth Street, where she had gone shopping.
Carrie was there for the same purpose.
“Why, Mrs. Wheeler,” said Mrs. Vance, looking Carrie over in a glance, “where have you been?
Why haven’t you been to see me?
I’ve been wondering all this time what had become of you.
Really, I— ”
“I’m so glad to see you,” said Carrie, pleased and yet nonplussed.
Of all times, this was the worst to encounter Mrs. Vance.
“Why, I’m living down town here.
I’ve been intending to come and see you.
Where are you living now?”
“In Fifty-eighth Street,” said Mrs. Vance, “just off Seventh Avenue — 218.
Why don’t you come and see me?”
“I will,” said Carrie.
“Really, I’ve been wanting to come.
I know I ought to. It’s a shame.
But you know — ”
“What’s your number?” said Mrs. Vance.
“Thirteenth Street,” said Carrie, reluctantly. “112 West.”
“Oh,” said Mrs. Vance, “that’s right near here, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” said Carrie.
“You must come down and see me some time.”
“Well, you’re a fine one,” said Mrs. Vance, laughing, the while noting that Carrie’s appearance had modified somewhat.
“The address, too,” she added to herself. “They must be hard up.”
Still she liked Carrie well enough to take her in tow.
“Come with me in here a minute,” she exclaimed, turning into a store.