With poor Mabel Ross it had fared worse, her plain face and dumpy
little figure never receiving the least attention except from Durward
Bellmont, who pitying her lonely condition, frequently left more
congenial society for the sake of entertaining her. Of any one else
Carrie would have been jealous, but feeling sure that Mabel had no
attraction save her wealth, and knowing that Durward did not care for
that, she occasionally suffered him to leave her side, always feeling
amply repaid by the evident reluctance with which he left her society
for that of Mabel's.

When ill-naturedly rallied by his companions upon his preference for
Carrie, Durward would sometimes laughingly refer them to the old
worn-out story of the fox and the grapes, for to scarcely any one
save himself did Carrie think it worth her while to be even gracious.
This conduct was entirely at variance with her natural disposition,
for she was fond of admiration, come from what source it might, and
she would never have been so cold and distant to all save Durward,
had she not once heard him say that "he heartily despised a _flirt_;
and that no young lady could at all interest him if he suspected her
of being a coquette."

This, then, was the secret of her reserve. She was resolved upon
winning Durward Bellmont, deeming no sacrifice too great if in the
end it secured the prize. It is true there was one sophomore, a
perfumed, brainless fop, from Rockford, N. Y., who, next to Durward,
was apparently most in favor, but the idea of her entertaining even a
shadow of a liking for Tom Lakin, was too ludicrous to be harbored
for a moment, so his attentions went for naught, public opinion
uniting in giving her to Mr. Bellmont.