"Oh, thank you."

"I was just telling her," put in Drouet, now delighted with his
possession, "that I thought she did fine."

"Indeed you did," said Hurstwood, turning upon Carrie eyes in
which she read more than the words.

Carrie laughed luxuriantly.

"If you do as well in the rest of the play, you will make us all
think you are a born actress."

Carrie smiled again. She felt the acuteness of Hurstwood's
position, and wished deeply that she could be alone with him, but
she did not understand the change in Drouet. Hurstwood found
that he could not talk, repressed as he was, and grudging Drouet
every moment of his presence, he bowed himself out with the
elegance of a Faust. Outside he set his teeth with envy.

"Damn it!" he said, "is he always going to be in the way?" He was
moody when he got back to the box, and could not talk for
thinking of his wretched situation.

As the curtain for the next act arose, Drouet came back. He was
very much enlivened in temper and inclined to whisper, but
Hurstwood pretended interest. He fixed his eyes on the stage,
although Carrie was not there, a short bit of melodramatic comedy
preceding her entrance. He did not see what was going on,