That was not before he had become settled, however.  Carrie and he went looking for a flat, as arranged, and found one in Seventy-eighth Street near Amsterdam Avenue.  It was a five-story building, and their flat was on the third floor.  Owing to the fact that the street was not yet built up solidly, it was possible to see east to the green tops of the trees in Central Park and west to the broad waters of the Hudson, a glimpse of which was to be had out of the west windows.  For the privilege of six rooms and a bath, running in a straight line, they were compelled to pay thirty-five dollars a month—­an average, and yet exorbitant, rent for a home at the time.  Carrie noticed the difference between the size of the rooms here and in Chicago and mentioned it.

“You’ll not find anything better, dear,” said Hurstwood, “unless you go into one of the old-fashioned houses, and then you won’t have any of these conveniences.”

Carrie picked out the new abode because of its newness and bright wood-work.  It was one of the very new ones supplied with steam heat, which was a great advantage.  The stationary range, hot and cold water, dumb-waiter, speaking tubes, and call-bell for the janitor pleased her very much.  She had enough of the instincts of a housewife to take great satisfaction in these things.

Hurstwood made arrangements with one of the installment houses whereby they furnished the flat complete and accepted fifty dollars down and ten dollars a month.  He then had a little plate, bearing the name G. W. Wheeler, made, which he placed on his letter-box in the hall.  It sounded exceedingly odd to Carrie to be called Mrs. Wheeler by the janitor, but in time she became used to it and looked upon the name as her own.

These house details settled, Hurstwood visited some of the advertised opportunities to purchase an interest in some flourishing down-town bar.  After the palatial resort in Adams Street, he could not stomach the commonplace saloons which he found advertised.  He lost a number of days looking up these and finding them disagreeable.  He did, however, gain considerable knowledge by talking, for he discovered the influence of Tammany Hall and the value of standing in with the police.  The most profitable and flourishing places he found to be those which conducted anything but a legitimate business, such as that controlled by Fitzgerald and Moy.  Elegant back rooms and private drinking booths on the second floor were usually adjuncts of very profitable places.  He saw by portly keepers, whose shirt fronts shone with large diamonds, and whose clothes were properly cut, that the liquor business here, as elsewhere, yielded the same golden profit.  At last he found an individual who had a resort in Warren Street, and susceptible of improvement.  The owner claimed the business to be excellent, and it certainly looked so.

“We deal with a very good class of people,” he told Hurstwood.  “Merchants, salesmen, and professionals.  It’s a well-dressed class.  No bums.  We don’t allow ’em in the place.”