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第9章 儿子？

　　It came out so flat, however, that it was a deathly thing.Drouet fidgeted. Hurstwood moved his toe the least bit.

　　"Well, you don't have to," he said. "He can't get what he can'tget. He'll have to wait."

　　"Ah, Carrie," he answered, "what's the use saying that? I don'tcare. You needn't tell me that, though."

　　"Oh, a couple of girls over here in Fortieth Street. We couldhave a dandy time. I was just looking for you."

　　Yet another suffered the pain of personal rebuke.

　　"I'll tell you what I'll do," he added. "I'll write you, care ofthis West Side Post-office. Could you call next Tuesday?"

　　On Saturday Carrie went out by herself--first toward the river,which interested her, and then back along Jackson Street, whichwas then lined by the pretty houses and fine lawns whichsubsequently caused it to be made into a boulevard. She wasstruck with the evidences of wealth, although there was, perhaps,not a person on the street worth more than a hundred thousanddollars. She was glad to be out of the flat, because already shefelt that it was a narrow, humdrum place, and that interest andjoy lay elsewhere. Her thoughts now were of a more liberalcharacter, and she punctuated them with speculations as to thewhereabouts of Drouet. She was not sure but that he might callanyhow Monday night, and, while she felt a little disturbed atthe possibility, there was, nevertheless, just the shade of awish that he would.

　　She could not help sharing in Lola's love for a good time. Therewere days when they went carriage riding, nights when after theshow they dined, afternoons when they strolled along Broadway,tastefully dressed. She was getting in the metropolitan whirl ofpleasure.

　　"Oh, go on and keep it," she replied, rather unnerved. "There'llbe other things."