Here she had dressed, and gone out this morning and never said a word.”
He scratched his head and prepared to go down town.
He was still frowning.
As he came into the hall he encountered the girl, who was now looking after another chamber.
She had on a white dusting cap, beneath which her chubby face shone good-naturedly.
Drouet almost forgot his worry in the fact that she was smiling on him.
He put his hand familiarly 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 you serious?”
“Certainly,” she answered.
Then, with an air of one who did not intentionally mean to create trouble,
“He came lots of times. I thought you knew.”
The game of deception was up with Drouet.
He did not try to simulate indifference 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 in particular.
“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 gentle squeeze.
“Certainly not,” she returned.
“I wouldn’t worry over it.”
“All right,” he said, passing on, seriously brooding for once, and yet not wholly unconscious of the fact that he was making a most excellent impression upon the chambermaid.
“I’ll see her about that,” he said to himself, passionately, feeling that he had been unduly wronged.
“I’ll find out, b’George, whether she’ll act that way or not.”
Chapter XXI
The Lure of the Spirit — The Flesh in Pursuit
When Carrie came Hurstwood had been waiting many minutes.
His blood was warm; his nerves wrought up.
He was anxious to see the woman who had stirred him so profoundly the night before.
“Here you are,” he said, repressedly, feeling a spring in his limbs and an elation which was tragic in itself.
“Yes,” said Carrie.
They walked on as if bound for some objective point, while Hurstwood drank in the radiance of her presence.
The rustle of her pretty skirt was like music to him.
“Are you satisfied?” he asked, thinking of how well she did the night before.
“Are you?”
He tightened his fingers as he saw the smile she gave him.
“It was wonderful.”
Carrie laughed ecstatically.
“That was one of the best things I’ve seen in a long time,” he added.