In a few minutes he had come about into her seat. He talked of
sales of clothing, his travels, Chicago, and the amusements of
that city.

"If you are going there, you will enjoy it immensely. Have you
relatives?"

"I am going to visit my sister," she explained.

"You want to see Lincoln Park," he said, "and Michigan Boulevard.
They are putting up great buildings there. It's a second New
York--great. So much to see--theatres, crowds, fine houses--oh,
you'll like that."

There was a little ache in her fancy of all he described. Her
insignificance in the presence of so much magnificence faintly
affected her. She realised that hers was not to be a round of
pleasure, and yet there was something promising in all the
material prospect he set forth. There was something satisfactory
in the attention of this individual with his good clothes. She
could not help smiling as he told her of some popular actress of
whom she reminded him. She was not silly, and yet attention of
this sort had its weight.

"You will be in Chicago some little time, won't you?" he observed
at one turn of the now easy conversation.

"I don't know," said Carrie vaguely--a flash vision of the
possibility of her not securing employment rising in her mind.