She put her two little hands together and pressed them
appealingly.

Hurstwood gazed with slightly parted lips. Drouet was fidgeting
with satisfaction.

"To be my wife, yes," went on the actor in a manner which was
weak by comparison, but which could not now spoil the tender
atmosphere which Carrie had created and maintained. She did not
seem to feel that he was wretched. She would have done nearly as
well with a block of wood. The accessories she needed were
within her own imagination. The acting of others could not
affect them.

"And you repent already?" she said, slowly.

"I lost you," he said, seizing her little hand, "and I was at the
mercy of any flirt who chose to give me an inviting look. It was
your fault--you know it was--why did you leave me?"

Carrie turned slowly away, and seemed to be mastering some
impulse in silence. Then she turned back.

"Ray," she said, "the greatest happiness I have ever felt has
been the thought that all your affection was forever bestowed
upon a virtuous woman, your equal in family, fortune, and
accomplishments. What a revelation do you make to me now! What
is it makes you continually war with your happiness?"

The last question was asked so simply that it came to the