Carrie was not by any means a gloomy soul.

More, she had not the mind to get firm hold upon a definite truth.

When she could not find her way out of the labyrinth of ill-logic which thought upon the subject created, she would turn away entirely.
Drouet, all the time, was conducting himself in a model way for one of his sort.

He took her about a great deal, spent money upon her, and when he travelled took her with him.

There were times when she would be alone for two or three days, while he made the shorter circuits of his business, but, as a rule, she saw a great deal of him.
"Say, Carrie," he said one morning, shortly after they had so established themselves, "I've invited my friend Hurstwood to come out some day and spend the evening with us." "Who is he ?" asked Carrie doubtfully.
"Oh, he's a nice man.