Carrie, left alone by Drouet, listened to his retreating steps, scarcely realising what had happened. She knew that he had stormed out. It was some moments before she questioned whether he would return, not now exactly, but ever. She looked around her upon the rooms, out of which the evening light was dying, and wondered why she did not feel quite the same towards them. She went over to the dresser and struck a match, lighting the gas. Then she went back to the rocker to think.
It was some time before she could collect her thoughts, but when she did, this truth began to take on importance. She was quite alone. Suppose Drouet did not come back? Suppose she should never hear anything more of him? This fine arrangement of chambers would not last long. She would have to quit them.
To her credit, be it said, she never once counted on Hurstwood. She could only approach that subject with a pang of sorrow and regret. For a truth, she was rather shocked and frightened by this evidence of human depravity. He would have tricked her without turning an eyelash. She would have been led into a newer and worse situation. And yet she could not keep out the pictures of his looks and manners. Only this one deed seemed strange and miserable. It contrasted sharply with all she felt and knew concerning the man.
But she was alone. That was the greater thought just at present. How about that? Would she go out to work again? Would she begin to look around in the business district? The stage！ Oh, yes. Drouet had spoken about that. Was there any hope there? She moved to and fro, in deep and varied thoughts, while the minutes slipped away and night fell completely. She had had nothing to eat, and yet there she sat, thinking it over.
She remembered that she was hungry and went to the little cupboard in the rear room where were the remains of one of their breakfasts. She looked at these things with certain misgivings. The contemplation of food had more significance than usual.
While she was eating she began to wonder how much money she had. It struck her as exceedingly important, and without ado she went to look for her purse. It was on the dresser, and in it were seven dollars in bills and some change. She quailed as she thought of the insignificance of the amount and rejoiced because the rent was paid until the end of the month. She began also to think what she would have done if she had gone out into the street when she first started. By the side of that situation, as she looked at it now, the present seemed agreeable. She had a little time at least, and then, perhaps, everything would come out all right, after all.
Drouet had gone, but what of it? He did not seem seriously angry. He only acted as if he were hurry. He would come back -- of course he would. There was his cane in the corner. Here was one of his collars. He had left his light overcoat in the wardrobe. She looked about and tried to assure herself with the sight of a dozen such details, but, alas, the secondary thought arrived. Supposing he did come back. Then what?
Here was another proposition nearly, if not quite, as disturbing. She would have to talk with and explain to him. He would want her to admit that he was right. It would be impossible for her to live with him.
On Friday Carrie remembered her appointment with Hurstwood, and the passing of the hour when she should, by all right of promise, have been in his company served to keep the calamity which had befallen her exceedingly fresh and clear. In her nervousness and stress of mind she felt it necessary to act, and consequently put on a brown street dress, and at eleven o'clock started to visit the business portion once again. She must look for work.
The rain, which threatened at twelve and began at one, served equally well to cause her to retrace her steps and remain within doors as it did to reduce Hurstwood's spirits and give him a wretched day.
The morrow was Saturday, a half-holiday in many business quarters, and besides it was a balmy, radiant day, with the trees and grass shining exceedingly green after the rain of the night before. When she went out the sparrows were twittering merrily in joyous choruses. She could not help feeling, as she looked across the lovely park, that life was a joyous thing for those who did not need to worry, and she wished over and over that something might interfere now to preserve for her the comfortable state which she had occupied. She did not want Drouet or his money when she thought of it, nor anything more to do with Hurstwood, but only the content and ease of mind she had experienced, for, after all, she had been happy -- happier, at least, than she was now when confronted by the necessity of making her way alone.
When she arrived in the business part it was quite eleven o'clock, and the business had little longer to run. She did not realise this at first, being affected by some of the old distress which was a result of her earlier adventure into this strenuous and exacting quarter. She wandered about, assuring herself that she was making up her mind to look for something, and at the same time feeling that perhaps it was not necessary to be in such haste about it. The thing was difficult to encounter, and she had a few days. Besides, she was not sure that she was really face to face again with the bitter problem of self-sustenance. Anyhow, there was one change for the better. She knew that she had improved in appearance. Her manner had vastly changed. Her clothes were becoming, and men -- well-dressed men, some of the kind who before had gazed at her indifferently from behind their polished railings and imposing office partitions -- now gazed into her face with a soft light in their eyes. In a way, she felt the power and satisfaction of the thing, but it did not wholly reassure her. She looked for nothing save what might come legitimately and without the appearance of special favour. She wanted something, but no man should buy her by false protestations or favour. She proposed to earn her living honestly.
"This store closes at one on Saturdays," was a pleasing and satisfactory legend to see upon doors which she felt she ought to enter and inquire for work. It gave her an excuse, and after encountering quite a number of them, and noting that the clock registered 12.15, she decided that it would be no use to seek further to-day, so she got on a car and went to Lincoln Park. There was always something to see there -- the flowers, the animals, the lake -- and she flattered herself that on Monday she would be up betimes and searching. Besides, many things might happen between now and Monday.
Sunday passed with equal doubts, worries, assurances, and heaven knows what vagaries of mind and spirit. Every half-hour in the day the thought would come to her most sharply, like the tail of a swishing whip, that action -- immediate action -- was imperative. At other times she would look about her and assure herself that things were not so bad -- that certainly she would come out safe and sound. At such times she would think of Drouet's advice about going on the stage, and saw some chance for herself in that quarter. She decided to take up that opportunity on the morrow.
Accordingly, she arose early Monday morning and dressed herself carefully. She did not know just how such applications were made, but she took it to be a matter which related more directly to the theatre buildings. All you had to do was to inquire of some one about the theatre for the manager and ask for a position. If there was anything, you might get it, or, at least, he could tell you how.
She had had no experience with this class of individuals whatsoever, and did not know the salacity and humour of the theatrical tribe. She only knew of the position which Mr. Hale occupied, but, of all things, she did not wish to encounter that personage, on account of her intimacy with his wife.
There was, however, at this time, one theatre, the Chicago Opera House, which was considerably in the public eye, and its manager, David A. Henderson, had a fair local reputation. Carrie had seen one or two elaborate performances there and had heard of several others. She knew nothing of Henderson nor of the methods of applying, but she instinctively felt that this would be a likely place, and accordingly strolled about in that neighbourhood. She came bravely enough to the showy entrance way, with the polished and begilded lobby, set with framed pictures out of the current attraction, leading up to the quiet box-office, but she could get no further. A noted comic opera comedian was holding forth that week, and the air of distinction and prosperity overawed her. She could not imagine that there would be anything in such a lofty sphere for her. She almost trembled at the audacity which might have carried her on to a terrible rebuff. She could find heart only to look at the pictures which were showy and then walk out. It seemed to her as if she had made a splendid escape and that it would be foolhardy to think of applying in that quarter again.
This little experience settled her hunting for one day. She looked around elsewhere, but it was from the outside. She got the location of several playhouses fixed in her mind -- notably the Grand Opera House and McVickar's, both of which were leading in attractions -- and then came away. Her spirits were materially reduced, owing to the newly restored sense of magnitude of the great interests and the insignificance of her claims upon society, such as she understood them to be.
That night she was visited by Mrs. Hale, whose chatter and protracted stay made it impossible to dwell upon her predicament or the fortune of the day. Before retiring, however, she sat down to think, and gave herself up to the most gloomy forebodings. Drouet had not put in an appearance. She had had no word from any quarter, she had spent a dollar of her precious sum in procuring food and paying car fare. It was evident that she would not endure long. Besides, she had discovered no resource.
In this situation her thoughts went out to her sister in Van Buren Street, whom she had not seen since the night of her flight, and to her home at Columbia City, which seemed now a part of something that could not be again. She looked for no refuge in that direction. Nothing but sorrow was brought her by thoughts of Hurstwood, which would return. That he could have chosen to dupe her in so ready a manner seemed a cruel thing.
Tuesday came, and with it appropriate indecision and speculation. She was in no mood, after her failure of the day before, to hasten forth upon her work-seeking errand, and yet she rebuked herself for what she considered her weakness the day before. Accordingly she started out to revisit the Chicago Opera House, but possessed scarcely enough courage to approach.
She did manage to inquire at the box-office, however.
"Manager of the company or the house?" asked the smartly dressed individual who took care of the tickets. He was favourably impressed by Carrie's looks.
"I don't know," said Carrie, taken back by the question.
"You couldn't see the manager of the house to-day, anyhow," volunteered the young man. "He's out of town."
He noted her puzzled look, and then added: "What is it you wish to see about?"
"I want to see about getting a position," she answered.
"You'd better see the manager of the company," he returned, "but he isn't here now."
"When will he be in?" asked Carrie, somewhat relieved by this information.
"Well, you might find him in between eleven and twelve. He's here after two o'clock."
Carrie thanked him and walked briskly out, while the young man gazed after her through one of the side windows of his gilded coop.
"Good-looking," he said to himself, and proceeded to visions of condescensions on her part which were exceedingly flattering to himself.
One of the principal comedy companies of the day was playing an engagement at the Grand opera House. Here Carrie asked to see the manager of the company. She little knew the trivial authority of this individual, or that had there been a vacancy an actor would have been sent on from New York to fill it.
"His office is upstairs," said a man in the box-office.
Several persons were in the manager's office, two lounging near a window, another talking to an individual sitting at a roll-top desk -- the manager. Carrie glanced nervously about, and began to fear that she should have to make her appeal before the assembled company, two of whom -- the occupants of the window -- were already observing her carefully.
"I can't do it," the manager was saying; "it's a rule of Mr. Frohman's never to allow visitors back of the stage. No, no！"
Carrie timidly waited, standing. There were chairs, but no one motioned her to be seated. The individual to whom the manager had been talking went away quite crest-fallen. That luminary gazed earnestly at some papers before him, as if they were of the greatest concern.
"Did you see that in the 'Herald' this morning about Nat Goodwin, Harris?"
"No," said the person addressed. "What was it?"
"Made quite a curtain address at Hooley's last night. Better look it up."
Harris reached over to a table and began to look for the "Herald."
"What is it?" said the manager to Carrie, apparently noticing her for the first time. He thought he was going to be held up for free tickets.
Carrie summoned up all her courage, which was little at best. She realised that she was a novice, and felt as if a rebuff were certain. Of this she was so sure that she only wished now to pretend she had called for advice.
"Can you tell me how to go about getting on the stage?"
It was the best way after all to have gone about the matter. She was interesting, in a manner, to the occupant of the chair, and the simplicity of her request and attitude took his fancy. He smiled, as did the others in the room, who, however, made some slight effort to conceal their humour.
"I don't know," he answered, looking her brazenly over. "Have you ever had any experience upon the stage?"
"A little," answered Carrie. "I have taken part in amateur performances."
She thought she had to make some sort of showing in order to retain his interest.
"Never studied for the stage?" he said, putting on an air intended as much to impress his friends with his discretion as Carrie.
"No, sir."
"Well, I don't know," he answered, tipping lazily back in his chair while she stood before him. "What makes you want to get on the stage?"
She felt abashed at the man's daring, but could only smile in answer to his engaging smirk, and say:
"I need to make a living."
"Oh," he answered, rather taken by her trim appearance, and feeling as if he might scrape up an acquaintance with her. "That's a good reason, isn't it? Well, Chicago is not a good place for what you want to do. You ought to be in New York. There's more chance there. You could hardly expect to get started out here."
Carrie smiled genially, grateful that he should condescend to advise her even so much. He noticed the smile, and put a slightly different construction on it. He thought he saw an easy chance for a little flirtation.
"Sit down," he said, pulling a chair forward from the side of his desk and dropping his voice so that the two men in the room should not hear. Those two gave each other the suggestion of a wink.
"Well, I'll be going, Barney," said one, breaking away and so addressing the manager. "See you this afternoon."
"All right," said the manager.
The remaining individual took up a paper as if to read.
"Did you have any idea what sort of part you would like to get?" asked the manager softly.
"Oh, no," said Carrie. "I would take anything to begin with."
"I see," he said. "Do you live here in the city?"
"Yes, sir."
The manager smiled most blandly.
"Have you ever tried to get in as a chorus girl?" he asked, assuming a more confidential air.
Carrie began to feel that there was something exuberant and unnatural in his manner.
"No," she said.
"That's the way most girls begin," he went on, "who go on the stage. It's a good way to get experience."
He was turning on her a glance of the companionable and persuasive manner.
"I didn't know that," said Carrie.
"It's a difficult thing," he went on, "but there's always a chance, you know." Then, as if he suddenly remembered, he pulled out his watch and consulted it. "I've an appointment at two," he said, "and I've got to go to lunch now. Would you care to come and dine with me? We can talk it over there."
"Oh, no," said Carrie, the whole motive of the man flashing on her at once. "I have an engagement myself."
"That's too bad," he said, realising that he had been a little beforehand in his offer and that Carrie was about to go away. "Come in later. I may know of something."
"Thank you," she answered, with some trepidation, and went out.
"She was good-looking, wasn't she?" said the manager's companion, who had not caught all the details of the game he had played.
"Yes, in a way," said the other, sore to think the game had been lost. "She'd never make an actress, though. Just another chorus girl-that's all."
This little experience nearly destroyed her ambition to call upon the manager at the Chicago Opera House, but she decided to do so after a time. He was of a more sedate turn of mind. He said at once that there was no opening of any sort, and seemed to consider her search foolish.
"Chicago is no place to get a start," he said. "You ought to be in New York."
Still she persisted, and went to McVickar's, where she could not find any one. "The Old Homestead" was running there, but the person to whom she was referred was not to be found.
These little expeditions took up her time until quite four o'clock, when she was weary enough to go home. She felt as if she ought to continue and inquire elsewhere, but the results so far were too dispiriting. She took the car and arrived at Ogden Place in three-quarters of an hour, but decided to ride on to the West Side branch of the Post-office, where she was accustomed to receive Hurstwood's letters. There was one there now, written Saturday, which she tore open and read with mingled feelings. There was so much warmth in it and such tense complaint at her having failed to meet him, and her subsequent silence, that she rather pitied the man. That he loved her was evident enough. That he had wished and dared to do so, married as he was, was the evil. She felt as if the thing deserved an answer, and consequently decided that she would write and let him know that she knew of his married state and was justly incensed at his deception. She would tell him that it was all over between them.
At her room, the wording of this missive occupied her for some time, for she fell to the task at once. It was most difficult.
"You do not need to have me explain why I did not meet you," she wrote in part. "How could you deceive me so? You cannot expect me to have anything more to do with you. I wouldn't under any circumstances. Oh, how could you act so?" she added in a burst of feeling. "You have caused me more misery than you can think. I hope you will get over your infatuation for me. We must not meet any more. Good-bye."
She took the letter the next morning, and at the corner dropped it reluctantly into the letter-box, still uncertain as to whether she should do so or not. Then she took the car and went down town.
This was the dull season with the department stores, but she was listened to with more consideration than was usually accorded to young women applicants, owing to her neat and attractive appearance. She was asked the same old questions with which she was already familiar.
"What can you do? Have you ever worked in a retail store before? Are you experienced?"
At The Fair, See and Company's, and all the great stores it was much the same. It was the dull season, she might come in a little later, possibly they would like to have her.
When she arrived at the house at the end of the day, weary and disheartened, she discovered that Drouet had been there. His umbrella and light overcoat were gone. She thought she missed other things, but could not be sure. Everything had not been taken.
So his going was crystallising into staying. What was she to do now? Evidently she would be facing the world in the same old way within a day or two. Her clothes would get poor. She put her two hands together in her customary expressive way and pressed her fingers. Large tears gathered in her eyes and broke hot across her cheeks. She was alone, very much alone.
Drouet really had called, but it was with a very different mind from that which Carrie had imagined. He expected to find her, to justify his return by claiming that he came to get the remaining portion of his wardrobe, and before he got away again to patch up a peace.
Accordingly, when he arrived, he was disappointed to find Carrie out. He trifled about, hoping that she was somewhere in the neighbourhood and would soon return. He constantly listened, expecting to hear her foot on the stair.
When he did so, it was his intention to make believe that he had just come in and was disturbed at being caught. Then he would explain his need of his clothes and find out how things stood.
Wait as he did, however, Carrie did not come. From pottering around among the drawers, in momentary expectation of her arrival, he changed to looking out of the window, and from that to resting himself in the rocking-chair. Still no Carrie. He began to grow restless and lit a cigar. After that he walked the floor. Then he looked out of the window and saw clouds gathering. He remembered an appointment at three. He began to think that it would be useless to wait, and got hold of his umbrella and light coat, intending to take these things, any way. It would scare her, he hoped. To-morrow he would come back for the others. He would find out how things stood.
As he started to go he felt truly sorry that he had missed her. There was a little picture of her on the wall, showing her arrayed in the little jacket he had first bought her -- her face a little more wistful than he had seen it lately. He was really touched by it, and looked into the eyes of it with a rather rare feeling for him.
"You didn't do me right, Cad," he said, as if he were addressing her in the flesh.
Then he went to the door, took a good look around, and went out.
杜洛埃走后，只剩下嘉莉一个人。她听着他远去的脚步声，几乎不明白怎么回事。她只知道他怒冲冲地走了。过了好一会儿，她才开始想，他是否还会回来。当然不是现在，而是以后还会不会回来。外面暮色已浓。她打量着房间，很奇怪这些房间今天为什么给人异样的感觉。她走到梳妆台前，划了根火柴，点亮了煤气灯。然后她走到摇椅边，坐下来思索。
好一会儿她才能集中思想。可是她一集中思想，就意识到了问题的严重性。她现在孤身一人，假如杜洛埃不回来怎么办呢？假如她再也听不到他的消息呢？这些漂亮的房间不能久住，她将不得不搬出去。
应该指出的是，她一次也没想到要求助于赫斯渥，这是应该赞扬的。每次想到他都给她带来伤心、悔恨和痛苦。说实话，这事足以证明人类的邪恶。这证据让她大为震惊和害怕。他会不动声色地把她骗了，连眼皮也不眨一下。她差一点落入更糟糕的境地。然而她不能把他的音容笑貌从脑海里驱除出去。
只有这一点似乎太奇怪太糟糕了，因为这不符合她现在对他的看法和情感。
但她现在凄然一身。这一点在目前是首当其冲的问题。怎么办呢？她是不是该出外重新工作呢？是不是要在商业区首先找事呢？上舞台演戏！嗯，对。杜洛埃讲到过这一点。有没有希望当个演员呢？她在摇椅里摇来摇去，陷入深思，各种思绪纷至沓来。时间一分钟一分钟地过去了，夜幕已经完全降临。她还没有吃一点东西，然而她们坐在那里，心里反复掂量。
她想起自己肚子饿了，就到后房的小柜跟前，那里还留着早饭吃剩下的一点食物。她忧心忡忡地打量着这些食物。食物现在比以往来得重要。
吃着饭的时候，她开始考虑她还有多少钱。她想到这问题非常重要，就立刻去找她的钱包。钱包在梳妆台上，里面有７块钱的钞票，还有一些零钱。想到只有这么一点钱，她心里很沮丧。不过想起这个月的房租已经付过了，她心里又高兴起来。她还想到如果她刚才真的离家出走了，现在的境遇又会怎么样。这么一比，她感到眼下的处境还不算太糟，至少她还有点时间，也许以后一切又会好起来的。
杜洛埃走了，但是这又怎么样呢？他并不像是真生气，他只是装出一副恼怒的样子。他会回来的--他会的，这是理所当然的。他的手杖还留在角落里，这儿还有他的一个衬衫领子。他的薄大衣也还留在衣橱里。她四处看着，用看到的这样那样的东西宽慰自己。但是随后她又想到另一个问题：如果他真的回来了，那又会怎么样呢？
这个问题尽管没有前一个难题那样令她不安，也好不到哪里去。她将不得不和他谈，向他解释。他会要她承认他没错。
那样的话，和他继续生活在一起是不可能的。
星期五，嘉莉想起她和赫斯渥有个约会。她看着他们约会的那个小时一分分地过去，心里重新清晰地感受到自己身受的灾难。她紧张不安，心里沉甸甸的，感到非采取行动不可。于是她穿上一件棕色的外衣，１１点钟的时候出门，再度到商业区去碰运气，她必须找份工作。
１２点钟的时候，天阴沉沉的像要下雨。１点钟时真的开始下雨了，这场雨使嘉莉只好回家，整天呆在家里。这场雨也使赫斯渥情绪低落，一整天闷闷不乐。
第二天是星期六，许多商行只营业半天。天气和暖怡人，阳光灿烂。下了一晚的雨以后，树木和草坪显得分外青翠。她出门时，大群的麻雀在叽叽喳喳地欢唱。看着可爱的公园，她不由感到，对于那些衣食无忧的人来说，生活真是趣味盎然。
她一再盼望会出现什么奇迹，让她保住迄今享有的那份舒适生活。当然，她这么想时，并不是想要杜洛埃或者他的钱，也不是想和赫斯渥再有什么瓜葛，只是渴望继续过原来那种心满意足无忧无虑的日子。因为毕竟这些日子生活是快乐的，至少比眼下不得不单枪骑马地出外闯荡谋生要快乐得多。
她来到商业区时，已经１１点了，这一天的营业时间所剩不多了。她一开始并没有意识到这一点。上次在这个紧张苛刻的地区闯荡带来的痛苦仍记忆犹新，影响着她的情绪。她四处游荡，竭力使自己相信她正打定主意要找工作，同时却又感到似乎她不必那么急于找工作。找工作太为难了，她还有几天可拖。此外，她并不认为她真的已经面临自食其力的难题。不管怎么说，她现在的条件比那时强：她的外貌比以前漂亮。她现在衣服合体，举止大为改进。男人们--那些衣冠楚楚的男人们，以前坐在他们气派的写字间里，从光亮的铜栏杆后面冷淡地看着她，现在却用柔和的目光注视着她的脸。她有几分感到了自己外貌的力量，心里沾沾自喜。但是这些并不足以使她感到完全自信。她要的并不是男人们的额外恩赐，而是合法正当地得到的工作。她有需求，但是任何男人也别指望用花言巧语或者小恩小惠来收买她。她要清清白白地自食其力。
“本店星期六下午１点打烊。”她正感到该进去问问有没有工作的时候，店门口的这个告示让她如释重负欣喜满意。这下她有了一个不去求职的借口。这样的招牌看多了，钟的指钟又已指到１２点１刻，她就决定这一天再继续找工作是徒劳无益的。于是她就坐上一辆街车，到了林肯公园。这里总有不少值得观看的东西--花啦，动物啦，湖啦。她又宽慰自己，星期一她会早点起来找工作。再说，从现在到星期一这段时间里，什么事都可能发生的。
星期天过去了，这一天充满着同样的疑虑，担忧，自我宽慰，和天知道还有些什么别的异想天开。每隔半小时，她就痛楚地想到该采取行动，而且必须立刻采取行动。这个念头像呼啸的鞭子梢抽打在身上。有的时候，她又会朝四周看看，安慰自己，事情还不算太糟--她一定能度过难关，安然无恙。这种时候她就会想起杜洛埃的建议，觉得在当演员方面，她也许会有一点机会。她决定第二天就去试试。
为此，星期一早上她早早起来，细细地穿着打扮了一番。
她不知道这种求职该如何着手，但是她认为这事肯定和剧场有较为直接的关系。你只要去剧场向人打听一下，求见经理，然后向他申请一个职位。如果有空缺的话，你也许会被录用。
至少他会指点你该如何申请。
她和这一类人从来没有打过交道，并不知道演艺圈里这些人的好色和诙谐。她只知道海尔先生担任的职务，但是由于她和他太太关系密切，她最不希望遇到的就是这位先生。
不过当时有一个剧场--芝加哥歌剧院，声誉甚隆，剧院经理大卫·艾·汉德生在当地很有一点名气。嘉莉在那里看过一两场精心排演的戏，还听人说起过这个戏院上演的好几出别的戏。她对汉德生本人一无所知，也不知道申请工作的方法。但是她本能地感到这个地方很可能找到工作，所以她在戏院附近留连转悠。最后她鼓起了勇气，步入堂皇气派的戏院大门。里面是金碧辉煌的大厅，墙上的镜框里陈列着时下走红的名角和剧照。再进去就是安静的售票处。可是她没有勇气再往前走了。一个著名的滑稽歌剧演员本周在这里公演，那种赫赫声名和豪华气派把她震住了。她不敢想象在这种高贵的地方能有她一席之地。想到自己如此狂妄，竟敢到这里来找工作，想到差一点让人粗暴地骂出来，她吓得几乎发抖。她只有勇气看看墙上那些争芳斗艳的剧照，就退了出来。在她看来，她这么溜出来再妙不过了。如果还想在这里找工作，就真是太愣头愣脑不自量力了。
这场小小的冒险，结束了她一天的求职努力。她又到别处去转转，不过现在只是从外面打量一番。她的脑子里记住了好些戏院的地理位置--其中最重要的有大歌剧院和麦克维加戏院，这两个戏院都很叫座--然后走开了。这一番经历让她重新意识到这些财大气粗的企业高不可攀，而她个人的资格照她自己看来实在太微不足道，无法得到社会的重视。这一来她的勇气和信心又一落千丈。
那天晚上海尔太太来看她。她坐在那里聊天，半天不走，所以嘉莉无暇去想自己的处境或者当天的运气。不过上床前，她坐了下来思考，心里充满了悲观的预感。杜洛埃还没有露面，一点儿消息也没有。她已经从她那笔宝贵的钱里花掉了一块钱，用于吃饭和坐车。她的钱维持不了多久，这是明摆着的。
此外她还没找到一点挣钱的门路。
在这种情况下她的思绪回到了凡布伦大街她姐姐那里。
自从那天晚上出逃，她还没有见过她姐姐。她也想到了哥伦比亚城的老家，那些仿佛成了她永远无法重返的那个世界的一部分。她并不指望从那里得到庇护。她也想到赫斯渥，但是想到他，只给她带来悲伤。他竟会毫无顾忌地想要欺骗她，在她看来真是太残忍了。
到了星期二，她仍是左思右想举起不定。前一天的失败经历使她无心无绪，并不急于出去找工作。但是她责备自己前一天太畏首畏尾了。于是她又出发重返芝加哥歌剧院，虽然她几乎没有勇气走近它。
但是她最后还是走到售票处去打听。
“你想见剧团经理还是戏院经理？”那个穿着华丽的售票员问道。嘉莉的美貌给他留下了好印象。
“我也不知道，”嘉莉回答。这个问题出乎她的意料之外。
“不管怎样，你今天见不到戏院经理，”那个青年主动告诉她说，“他今天不在城里。”他注意到她脸上困惑的表情，于是又问道：“你有什么事要见他？”“我想问问是不是有空缺，”她答道。
“那你最好去见剧团经理，”他回答说。“不过他现在不在这里。”“他什么时候会来？”嘉莉问道。这个消息让她稍微松了一口气。
“嗯，你也许在１１点到１２点之间可以找到他。２点以后他在这里。”嘉莉向他道谢以后，就轻快她走了出来。那个年轻人还从装饰华丽的售票处边窗注视着她的背影。
“真漂亮，”他心里想道，于是开始想入非非，想象她对他屈尊俯就，让他不胜荣幸。
当时一家主要的喜剧团正在大歌剧院按合同进行演出。
嘉莉来到这里求见剧团经理。她不知道这人并没有多大权力。
如果有空缺，演员将从纽约派来，这一点她一无所知。
“他的办公室在楼上，”票房的一个人告诉她。
经理办公室里有几个人。有两个懒散地靠在窗口旁，另一个正在对坐在拉盖办公桌旁的人说话，那个坐着的就是经理。
嘉莉心情忐忑地朝四周打量了一下，开始担心她必须当着这么多人的面求职。其中的两个人，就是靠窗口那两个，开始细细打量她。
“这一点我办不到，”那个经理正在说话。“富罗门先生有规定，不准来访者到后台去。不行，不行！”嘉莉站在那里，怯怯地等着。旁边有椅子，但是没有人示意她坐下来。和经理谈话的那人垂头丧气地走了。那个大人物一本正经地看起面前的报纸来，仿佛那些报纸是他头等关心的事情。
“哈里斯，你看到今天早上《先驱报》上登的一则关于耐特·古德温的消息吗？”“没有，”被问的那个人回答。“是关于什么的？”“昨晚在胡利大戏院他作了一场精彩的幕前演说，你最好看一看。”哈里斯伸手到桌子上找《先驱报》。
“你有什么事？”他问嘉莉，显然刚刚看到她。他以为是个来问他要免费戏票的。
嘉莉鼓起了全部勇气，其实充其量也没有多少勇气可言。
她意识到自己是个新手，非遭到断然回绝不可。对这一点她深信不疑，所以她现在只想装出一副来向他请教的样子。
“你能告诉我怎么才能登台演戏吗？”说到底，这是求职的最佳办法。坐在椅子里的那人开始对她有几分感兴趣，她的直截了当的请求和说话方式很合他的心意。他露出了微笑，屋里其他人也微笑起来，不过那些人对他们的笑意稍加掩饰。
“我也不知道，”他厚颜无耻地打量着她。“你有过登台演出的经验吗？”“有过一点，”嘉莉回答说。“我曾经在业余戏剧演出里演过一个角色。”她想她必须稍微炫耀一下才能继续让他感兴趣。
“没有研究过舞台表演吧？”他说，装出一副煞有介事的神气，既是给嘉莉看的，也是给他的朋友们看的。
“没有，先生。”
“那么，我也不知道该怎么办了，”他回答道，懒洋洋地朝椅背上一靠，她还站在他面前。 “你为什么想要登台当演员？”那个男人的放肆让她感到窘迫，但是对于他的得意的迷人笑容只能报以微笑。她回答说：“我需要谋生。”“噢，”他答道。他看上了她的匀称漂亮的外貌，感到兴许他可以和她结交一番。“这个理由不坏，是不是？不过，芝加哥不是达到你的目的的好地方。你应该到纽约去。那里机会更多一点。你在这里很难有机会开始演员生涯。”嘉莉温柔地微微一笑，很感激他屈尊赐教，给她提供那么多忠告。他注意到她的微笑，但是对这个微笑作了略为不同的解释，认为自己有了一个调情的好机会。
“请坐，”他说着从桌子侧面把一把椅子往前拉了拉。他把声音压低，不让屋里另外两个人听见。那两个人心照不宣地相互眨了眨眼睛。
“喂，巴纳，我要走了，”其中一个突然离去，临走时对经理打了声招呼，“今天下午见。”“好吧，”经理说。
留下的那人拿起一份报纸，像是要看报的样子。
“你想过要演一个什么样的角色？”经理轻声问。
“噢，没有，”嘉莉说，“刚开头什么角色都行。”“我明白了，”他说。“你住在这个城里吗？”“是的，先生。”经理讨好地微笑着。
“你有没有试过当合唱队队员？”他拿出一副推心置腹讲悄悄话的神气。
嘉莉开始感到他的态度浮夸不自然。
“没有，”她说。
“大多数女孩子当演员都是那样开始的，”他继续说。“这是取得舞台经验的好办法。”他用友好诱惑的目光看着她。
“这一点我原先没有想到。”
“这事很困难，”他继续说，“不过，你知道，机会总有的。”接着他好像突然想起了什么，掏出怀表看了看。“我２点钟还有一个约会，”他说。“我现在得去吃午饭了。你愿意和我一起去吃饭吗？吃饭时我们可以继续谈谈。”“噢，不用了，”嘉莉说，立刻明白了他的全部动机。“我自己也有一个约会。”“那太遗憾了，”他说，意识到自己的邀请提出的时机略嫌早了一点，现在嘉莉要走了。”以后请再来。我也许会有点工作的消息。”“谢谢，”她说着胆战心惊地走了出来。
“长得不错，是不是？”经理的伙伴说，他并没有听清楚经理玩的全部把戏。
“是啊，有几分姿色，”经理说道，痛心自己的把戏失败了。
“不过她不会成为一个女明星。只能当个合唱队队员。”这次小小的涉险几乎打消了她去芝加哥歌剧院拜访剧团经理的决心。但是过了一会儿，她决定还是去一趟。这个经理是个较为严肃正派的人。他立即说，他们剧团没有空缺，而且似乎认为她的求职是愚蠢的。
“芝加哥不是初登舞台的地方，”他说。“你应该去纽约。”但是她没有放弃登台的念头，又赶到麦克维加大戏院。可是到了那里她扑了一个空。那里正在上演《故居》这出戏。人们指点她求见的人却哪里也找不到。
这些小小的探险活动让她一直忙到４点。她已经精疲力尽想回家了。她觉得她该到别的地方再打听打听，但是迄今为止的结果太让她失望了。她坐上街车，３刻钟后到了奥登广常但是她决定再坐下去，到西区邮局下车，她一向是从那里拿到赫斯渥的信的。那里已有一封信等着她，是星期六写的。
她带着复杂的感情拆开信看了起来。信里充满着热情，对她的失约和随后的沉默万分苦恼，使得嘉莉心软了。他爱她，这一点是明摆着的。但是他作为有妇之夫竟敢爱她，这又太大逆不道了。她觉得这封信似乎该有个答复，因此决定写封回信，让他明白她已经知道他的婚姻状况，因此对他的欺骗行为理所当然地感到气愤。她要告诉他，他们之间的关系已经完结了。
一回到家，她就动手写信。这封信的措辞很费斟酌，这信太难写了。
“你不需要我来解释我为什么不来见你。”她在信里写道，“你怎么能这样欺骗我呢？你不该指望我还会和你来往。无论如何，我不会再和你来往了。你怎么可以这样对待我呢？”她一阵感情迸发又补充说，“你给我造成了你无法想象的痛苦。我希望你能克服对我的迷恋，我们不能再见面了。别了！”第二天早上她拿着信出门，在马路的转弯处不情愿地把信投进邮筒。因为她一直拿不定主意，不知道该不该写这封信。然后她坐上街车，去商业区。
现在是百货公司的淡季，不过人们倾听她的求职申请时态度非常关注，这是一般女孩子求职时得不到的关注。这当然是因为嘉莉模样齐整，楚楚动人。他们问她的仍是那些她早就熟悉的老问题：“你会做些什么？你以前有过在零售商店工作的经历吗？
你有没有经验？”
在商场，在西公司，和所有别的大百货公司，情况都大同小异。现在是淡季，她可以晚些时候来看看，那时他们也许会雇她的。
傍晚，当她精疲力竭垂头丧气地回到家时，她发现杜洛埃来过了。他的伞和薄大衣已经拿走了。她感到还少了些别的什么东西，但是不肯定。他并没有把所有的东西都拿走。
这么看来，他的离开已成定局，他再也不会回来了。她现在该怎么办呢？很显然，一两天之内，她又得像从前那样面对冷酷的世界了。她的衣服渐渐地又会变得破旧寒酸。她习惯地合起双手，富有表情地把手指紧紧按在一起。大滴泪珠在她眼中聚集，热泪滚下脸颊。她很孤单，孤单极了。
杜洛埃确实来过了。不过他来的心情和嘉莉想的完全不一样。他期望见到她在家，他将声称他是回来拿留下的衣服的。然后在离开以前，他将设法和她言归于好。
因此他来时，看到嘉莉不在家，感到很失望。他东摸摸西拿拿，希望她就在附近什么地方，快回来了。他一直竖起耳朵听着，期待着听到楼梯上传来她的脚步声。
当他这么等着时，他打算等她回来时要装出刚到家的样子，还要假装被她撞见很狼狈的样子。然后他就解释，他需要衣服所以回来的。他要瞧瞧眼下情况如何。
可是他等了又等，嘉莉一直没有回来。起初他在抽屉里胡乱地翻着，随时防备她回来。接着他又走到窗口去张望，最后他在摇椅里坐了下来。嘉莉迟迟未归。他开始焦急得坐立不安了，于是点着了一支雪茄。那以后，他在房间里来回踱着。他又朝窗外张望，发现乌云在聚集。他想起来３点钟还有一个约会，于是感到再等无益，就拿起了伞和薄大衣。不管怎样，他打算把这两样东西拿走。他希望这样能吓唬吓唬她。明天他会回来取别的东西，那时再看情况如何。
他起身离开时，对于没有见到她，心里确实很遗憾。墙上有一张她的小照，照片里的她穿着他第一次给她买的那件小外套，脸上带着近来已不常看到的忧愁渴望的表情。他确实被这照片打动了，用一种他身上很少见的深情，注视着照片里她的眼睛。
“你对不起我，嘉德，”他说，好像那照片就是她本人似的。
然后他走向门口，朝房间四周久久地打量了一眼，才走出门去。