He was always forgetting something-his wife, Carrie, his need of money, present situation, or something--and so did not reason clearly.

Nevertheless, he sent the letter, waiting a reply before sending the money.
Meanwhile, he accepted his present situation with Carrie, getting what joy out of it he could.
Out came the sun by noon, and poured a golden flood through their open windows.

Sparrows were twittering.

There were laughter and song in the air.

Hurstwood could not keep his eyes from Carrie.