His initials he could not spare.
When they were shown their room Carrie saw at once that he had secured her a lovely chamber.
"You have a bath there," said he.

"Now you can clean up when you get ready." Carrie went over and looked out the window, while Hurstwood looked at himself in the glass.

He felt dusty and unclean.

He had no trunk, no change of linen, not even a hair-brush.
"I'll ring for soap and towels," he said, "and send you up a hair-brush.
Then you can bathe and get ready for breakfast.

I'll go for a shave and come back and get you, and then we'll go out and look for some clothes for you." He smiled good-naturedly as he said this.
"All right," said Carrie.
She sat down in one of the rocking-chairs, while Hurstwood waited for the boy, who soon knocked.
"Soap, towels, and a pitcher of ice-water." "Yes, sir." "I'll go now," he said to Carrie, coming toward her and holding out his hands, but she did not move to take them.
"You're not mad at me, are you ?" he asked softly.
"Oh, no!" she answered, rather indifferently.
"Don't you care for me at all ?" She made no answer, but looked steadily toward the window.
"Don't you think you could love me a little ?" he pleaded, taking one of her hands, which she endeavored to draw away.