She did it with a grace which was fascinating to look upon.
"Who is that woman ?" asked the director, watching Carrie in her little scene with Bamberger.
"Miss Madenda," said Quincel.
"I know her name," said the director, "but what does she do ?" "I don't know," said Quincel.

"She's a friend of one of our members." "Well, she's got more gumption than any one I've seen here so far--seems to take an interest in what she's doing." "Pretty, too, isn't she ?" said Quincel.
The director strolled away without answering.
In the second scene, where she was supposed to face the company in the ballroom, she did even better, winning the smile of the director, who volunteered, because of her fascination for him, to come over and speak with her.
"Were you ever on the stage ?" he asked insinuatingly.
"No," said Carrie.
"You do so well, I thought you might have had some experience." Carrie only smiled consciously.
He walked away to listen to Bamberger, who was feebly spouting some ardent line.
Mrs.Morgan saw the drift of things and gleamed at Carrie with envious and snapping black eyes.
"She's some cheap professional," she gave herself the satisfaction of thinking, and scorned and hated her accordingly.
The rehearsal ended for one day, and Carrie went home feeling that she had acquitted herself satisfactorily.

The words of the director were ringing in her ears, and she longed for an opportunity to tell Hurstwood.

She wanted him to know just how well she was doing.

Drouet, too, was an object for her confidences.