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第4章 不要怪我翻脸无情

　　"You need not trouble about that at all," interrupted Mr.Withers. "We can arrange that to your entire satisfaction at anytime. If three dollars a day is satisfactory to you, it will beso to us. All you have to do is to pay that sum to the clerk atthe end of the week or month, just as you wish, and he will giveyou a receipt for what the rooms would cost if charged for at ourregular rates."

　　"Pretty far--yes."

　　As he did so, a layer of bills, in parcels of a thousand, such asbanks issue, caught his eye. He could not tell how much theyrepresented, but paused to view them. Then he pulled out thesecond of the cash drawers. In that were the receipts of theday.

　　And now Carrie had attained that which in the beginning seemedlife's object, or, at least, such fraction of it as human beingsever attain of their original desires. She could look about onher gowns and carriage, her furniture and bank account. Friendsthere were, as the world takes it--those who would bow and smilein acknowledgment of her success. For these she had once craved.Applause there was, and publicity--once far off, essentialthings, but now grown trivial and indifferent. Beauty also--hertype of loveliness--and yet she was lonely. In her rocking-chairshe sat, when not otherwise engaged--singing and dreaming.

　　She did not do the part as she had at rehearsal, but she wasbetter. The audience was at least not irritated. Theimprovement of the work of the entire company took away directobservation from her. They were making very fair progress, andnow it looked as if the play would be passable, in the lesstrying parts at least.

　　"Better get a half or three-quarters of a pound of that."

　　Minnie made no objection to this, and Carrie put on her hat andwent below.

　　And now Carrie had attained that which in the beginning seemedlife's object, or, at least, such fraction of it as human beingsever attain of their original desires. She could look about onher gowns and carriage, her furniture and bank account. Friendsthere were, as the world takes it--those who would bow and smilein acknowledgment of her success. For these she had once craved.Applause there was, and publicity--once far off, essentialthings, but now grown trivial and indifferent. Beauty also--hertype of loveliness--and yet she was lonely. In her rocking-chairshe sat, when not otherwise engaged--singing and dreaming.

　　"Yes, but a thief hardly six years old, with a face like anangel's. 'Stop,' said my mother. 'What are you doing?'