This little experience settled her hunting for one day.  She looked around elsewhere, but it was from the outside.  She got the location of several playhouses fixed in her mind—­notably the Grand Opera House and McVickar’s, both of which were leading in attractions—­and then came away.  Her spirits were materially reduced, owing to the newly restored sense of magnitude of the great interests and the insignificance of her claims upon society, such as she understood them to be.

That night she was visited by Mrs. Hale, whose chatter and protracted stay made it impossible to dwell upon her predicament or the fortune of the day.  Before retiring, however, she sat down to think, and gave herself up to the most gloomy forebodings.  Drouet had not put in an appearance.  She had had no word from any quarter, she had spent a dollar of her precious sum in procuring food and paying car fare.  It was evident that she would not endure long.  Besides, she had discovered no resource.

In this situation her thoughts went out to her sister in Van Buren Street, whom she had not seen since the night of her flight, and to her home at Columbia City, which seemed now a part of something that could not be again.  She looked for no refuge in that direction.  Nothing but sorrow was brought her by thoughts of Hurstwood, which would return.  That he could have chosen to dupe her in so ready a manner seemed a cruel thing.

Tuesday came, and with it appropriate indecision and speculation.  She was in no mood, after her failure of the day before, to hasten forth upon her work-seeking errand, and yet she rebuked herself for what she considered her weakness the day before.  Accordingly she started out to revisit the Chicago Opera House, but possessed scarcely enough courage to approach.

She did manage to inquire at the box-office, however.

“Manager of the company or the house?” asked the smartly dressed individual who took care of the tickets.  He was favorably impressed by Carrie’s looks.

“I don’t know,” said Carrie, taken back by the question.

“You couldn’t see the manager of the house to-day, anyhow,” volunteered the young man.  “He’s out of town.”

He noted her puzzled look, and then added:  “What is it you wish to see about?”

“I want to see about getting a position,” she answered.

“You’d better see the manager of the company,” he returned, “but he isn’t here now.”

“When will he be in?” asked Carrie, somewhat relieved by this information.

“Well, you might find him in between eleven and twelve.  He’s here after two o’clock.”

Carrie thanked him and walked briskly out, while the young man gazed after her through one of the side windows of his gilded coop.

“Good-looking,” he said to himself, and proceeded to visions of condescension’s on her part which were exceedingly flattering to himself.

One of the principal comedy companies of the day was playing an engagement at the Grand Opera House.  Here Carrie asked to see the manager of the company.  She little knew the trivial authority of this individual, or that had there been a vacancy an actor would have been sent on from New York to fill it.