It's the quickest way." Carrie said nothing, and the horse gamboled on.

The weirdness of the city by night held her attention.

She looked at the long receding rows of lamps and studied the dark, silent houses.
"How did he hurt himself ?" she asked--meaning what was the nature of his injuries.

Hurstwood understood.

He hated to lie any more than necessary, and yet he wanted no protests until he was out of danger.
"I don't know exactly," he said.