In the second year, the business which Hurstwood managed did increase somewhat.  He got out of it regularly the $150 per month which he had anticipated.  Unfortunately, by this time Carrie had reached certain conclusions, and he had scraped up a few acquaintances.

Being of a passive and receptive rather than an active and aggressive nature, Carrie accepted the situation.  Her state seemed satisfactory enough.  Once in a while they would go to a theatre together, occasionally in season to the beaches and different points about the city, but they picked up no acquaintances.  Hurstwood naturally abandoned his show of fine manners with her and modified his attitude to one of easy familiarity.  There were no misunderstandings, no apparent differences of opinion.  In fact, without money or visiting friends, he led a life which could neither arouse jealousy nor comment.  Carrie rather sympathized with his efforts and thought nothing upon her lack of entertainment such as she had enjoyed in Chicago.  New York as a corporate entity and her flat temporarily seemed sufficient.

However, as Hurstwood’s business increased, he, as stated, began to pick up acquaintances.  He also began to allow himself more clothes.  He convinced himself that his home life was very precious to him, but allowed that he could occasionally stay away from dinner.  The first time he did this he sent a message saying that he would be detained.  Carrie ate alone, and wished that it might not happen again.  The second time, also, he sent word, but at the last moment.  The third time he forgot entirely and explained afterwards.  These events were months apart, each.

“Where were you, George?” asked Carrie, after the first absence.

“Tied up at the office,” he said genially.  “There were some accounts I had to straighten.”

“I’m sorry you couldn’t get home,” she said kindly.  “I was fixing to have such a nice dinner.”

The second time he gave a similar excuse, but the third time the feeling about it in Carrie’s mind was a little bit out of the ordinary.

“I couldn’t get home,” he said, when he came in later in the evening, “I was so busy.”

“Couldn’t you have sent me word?” asked Carrie.

“I meant to,” he said, “but you know I forgot it until it was too late to do any good.”

“And I had such a good dinner!” said Carrie.

Now, it so happened that from his observations of Carrie he began to imagine that she was of the thoroughly domestic type of mind.  He really thought, after a year, that her chief expression in life was finding its natural channel in household duties.  Notwithstanding the fact that he had observed her act in Chicago, and that during the past year he had only seen her limited in her relations to her flat and him by conditions which he made, and that she had not gained any friends or associates, he drew this peculiar conclusion.  With it came a feeling of satisfaction in having