observation, there was that in the things which had happened
which made his little power of analysis useless. Carrie was
still with him, but not helpless and pleading. There was a lilt
in her voice which was new. She did not study him with eyes
expressive of dependence. The drummer was feeling the shadow of
something which was coming. It coloured his feelings and made
him develop those little attentions and say those little words
which were mere forefendations against danger.

Shortly afterward he departed, and Carrie prepared for her
meeting with Hurstwood. She hurried at her toilet, which was
soon made, and hastened down the stairs. At the corner she
passed Drouet, but they did not see each other.

The drummer had forgotten some bills which he wished to turn into
his house. He hastened up the stairs and burst into the room,
but found only the chambermaid, who was cleaning up.

"Hello," he exclaimed, half to himself, "has Carrie gone?"

"Your wife? Yes, she went out just a few minutes ago."

"That's strange," thought Drouet. "She didn't say a word to me.
I wonder where she went?"

He hastened about, rummaging in his valise for what he wanted,
and finally pocketing it. Then he turned his attention to his
fair neighbour, who was good-looking and kindly disposed towards
him.