"I'll try and find out when he's going." "What good will it do ?" he asked, holding the same strain of feeling.
"Well, perhaps we can arrange to go somewhere." She really did not see anything clearer than before, but she was getting into that frame of mind where, out of sympathy, a woman yields.
Hurstwood did not understand.

He was wondering how she was to be persuaded--what appeal would move her to forsake Drouet.

He began to wonder how far her affection for him would carry her.

He was thinking of some question which would make her tell.
Finally he hit upon one of those problematical propositions which often disguise our own desires while leading us to an understanding of the difficulties which others make for us, and so discover for us a way.

It had not the slightest connection with anything intended on his part, and was spoken at random before he had given it a moment's serious thought.
"Carrie," he said, looking into her face and assuming a serious look which he did not feel, "suppose I were to come to you next week, or this week for that matter--to-night say--and tell you I had to go away--that I couldn't stay another minute and wasn't coming back any more--would you come with me ?" His sweetheart viewed him with the most affectionate glance, her answer ready before the words were out of his mouth.
"Yes," she said.
"You wouldn't stop to argue or arrange ?" "Not if you couldn't wait." He smiled when he saw that she took him seriously, and he thought what a chance it would afford for a possible junket of a week or two.