She was busy adjusting her thoughts and feelings to newer conditions, and was not in danger of suffering disturbing pangs from either quarter.

One evening Drouet found her dressing herself before the glass.
"Cad," said he, catching her, "I believe you're getting vain." "Nothing of the kind," she returned, smiling.
"Well, you're mighty pretty," he went on, slipping his arm around her.
"Put on that navy-blue dress of yours and I'll take you to the show." "Oh, I've promised Mrs.Hale to go with her to the Exposition to-night," she returned, apologetically.
"You did, eh ?" he said, studying the situation abstractedly.

"I wouldn't care to go to that myself." "Well, I don't know," answered Carrie, puzzling, but not offering to break her promise in his favour.
Just then a knock came at their door and the maidservant handed a letter in.
"He says there's an answer expected," she explained.
"It's from Hurstwood," said Drouet, noting the superscription as he tore it open.
"You are to come down and see Joe Jefferson with me to-night," it ran in part.

"It's my turn, as we agreed the other day.

All other bets are off." "Well, what do you say to this ?" asked Drouet, innocently, while Carrie's mind bubbled with favourable replies.
"You had better decide, Charlie," she said, reservedly.
"I guess we had better go, if you can break that engagement upstairs," said Drouet.
"Oh, I can," returned Carrie without thinking.
Drouet selected writing paper while Carrie went to change her dress.