For answer, her lips replied.

“Now,” he said, joyously, his fine eyes ablaze, “you’re my own girl, aren’t you?”

By way of further conclusion, her head lay softly upon his shoulder.

Chapter XIV WITH EYES AND NOT SEEING—­ONE INFLUENCE WANES

Carrie in her rooms that evening was in a fine glow, physically and mentally.  She was deeply rejoicing in her affection for Hurstwood and his love, and looked forward with fine fancy to their next meeting Sunday night.  They had agreed, without any feeling of enforced secrecy, that she should come down town and meet him, though, after all, the need of it was the cause.

Mrs. Hale, from her upper window, saw her come in.

“Um,” she thought to herself, “she goes riding with another man when her husband is out of the city.  He had better keep an eye on her.”

The truth is that Mrs. Hale was not the only one who had a thought on this score.  The housemaid who had welcomed Hurstwood had her opinion also.  She had no particular regard for Carrie, whom she took to be cold and disagreeable.  At the same time, she had a fancy for the merry and easy-mannered Drouet, who threw her a pleasant remark now and then, and in other ways extended her the evidence of that regard which he had for all members of the sex.  Hurstwood was more reserved and critical in his manner.  He did not appeal to this bodiced functionary in the same pleasant way.  She wondered that he came so frequently, that Mrs. Drouet should go out with him this afternoon when Mr. Drouet was absent.  She gave vent to her opinions in the kitchen where the cook was.  As a result, a hum of gossip was set going which moved about the house in that secret manner common to gossip.

Carrie, now that she had yielded sufficiently to Hurstwood to confess her affection, no longer troubled about her attitude towards him.  Temporarily she gave little thought to Drouet, thinking only of the dignity and grace of her lover and of his consuming affection for her.  On the first evening, she did little but go over the details of the afternoon.  It was the first time her sympathies had ever been thoroughly aroused, and they threw a new light on her character.  She had some power of initiative, latent before, which now began to exert itself.  She looked more practically upon her state and began to see glimmerings of a way out.  Hurstwood seemed a drag in the direction of honor.  Her feelings were exceedingly creditable, in that they constructed out of these recent developments something which conquered freedom from dishonor.  She had no idea what Hurstwood’s next word would be.  She only took his affection to be a fine thing, and appended better, more generous results accordingly.

As yet, Hurstwood had only a thought of pleasure without responsibility.  He did not feel that he was doing anything to complicate his life.  His position was secure, his home-life, if not satisfactory, was at least undisturbed, his personal liberty rather untrammelled.  Carrie’s love represented only so much added pleasure.  He would enjoy this new gift over and above his ordinary allowance of pleasure.  He would be happy with her and his own affairs would go on as they had, undisturbed.