“You couldn’t have tried so very hard,” said Carrie.  “I got something.”

“Well, I did,” he said, angered almost to harsh words.  “You needn’t throw up your success to me.  All I asked was a little help until I could get something.  I’m not down yet.  I’ll come up all right.”

He tried to speak steadily, but his voice trembled a little.

Carrie’s anger melted on the instant.  She felt ashamed.

“Well,” she said, “here’s the money,” and emptied it out on the table.  “I haven’t got quite enough to pay it all.  If they can wait until Saturday, though, I’ll have some more.”

“You keep it,” said Hurstwood sadly.  “I only want enough to pay the grocer.”

She put it back, and proceeded to get dinner early and in good time.  Her little bravado made her feel as if she ought to make amends.

In a little while their old thoughts returned to both.

“She’s making more than she says,” thought Hurstwood.  “She says she’s making twelve, but that wouldn’t buy all those things.  I don’t care.  Let her keep her money.  I’ll get something again one of these days.  Then she can go to the deuce.”

He only said this in his anger, but it prefigured a possible course of action and attitude well enough.

“I don’t care,” thought Carrie.  “He ought to be told to get out and do something.  It isn’t right that I should support him.”

In these days Carrie was introduced to several youths, friends of Miss Osborne, who were of the kind most aptly described as gay and festive.  They called once to get Miss Osborne for an afternoon drive.  Carrie was with her at the time.

“Come and go along,” said Lola.

“No, I can’t,” said Carrie.

“Oh, yes, come and go.  What have you got to do?”

“I have to be home by five,” said Carrie.

“What for?”

“Oh, dinner.”

“They’ll take us to dinner,” said Lola.

“Oh, no,” said Carrie.  “I won’t go.  I can’t.”

“Oh, do come.  They’re awful nice boys.  We’ll get you back in time.  We’re only going for a drive in Central Park.”  Carrie thought a while, and at last yielded.

“Now, I must be back by half-past four,” she said.

The information went in one ear of Lola and out the other.

After Drouet and Hurstwood, there was the least touch of cynicism in her attitude toward young men—­especially of the gay and frivolous sort.  She felt a little older than they.  Some of their pretty compliments seemed silly.  Still, she was young in heart and body and youth appealed to her.

“Oh, we’ll be right back, Miss Madenda,” said one of the chaps, bowing.  “You wouldn’t think we’d keep you over time, now, would you?”

“Well, I don’t know,” said Carrie, smiling.