He was ordinarily no coward, but the thought of losing so much weakened him.

Finally he gave way.

He would not trust to this fine hand any longer.
"I call," he said.
"A full house!" said the youth, spreading out his cards.
Hurstwood's hand dropped.
"I thought I had you," he said, weakly.
The youth raked in his chips, and Hurstwood came away, not without first stopping to count his remaining cash on the stair.
"Three hundred and forty dollars," he said.
With this loss and ordinary expenses, so much had already gone.
Back in the flat, he decided he would play no more.
Remembering Mrs.Vance's promise to call, Carrie made one other mild protest.

It was concerning Hurstwood's appearance.

This very day, coming home, he changed his clothes to the old togs he sat around in.
"What makes you always put on those old clothes ?" asked Carrie.
"What's the use wearing my good ones around here ?" he asked.
"Well, I should think you'd feel better." Then she added: "Some one might call." "Who ?" he said.
"Well, Mrs.Vance," said Carrie.
"She needn't see me," he answered, sullenly.
This lack of pride and interest made Carrie almost hate him.
"Oh," she thought, "there he sits.