Carrie saw a light.
“Thank you,” she said. “I’ll think about it.”
She started to go, and then bethought herself.
“How soon would I get a place?” she asked.
“Well, that’s hard to say,” said the man. “You might get one in a week, or it might be a month. You’d get the first thing that we thought you could do.”
“I see,” said Carrie, and then, half-smiling to be agreeable, she walked out.
The agent studied a moment, and then said to himself:
“It’s funny how anxious these women are to get on the stage.”
Carrie found ample food for reflection in the fifty-dollar proposition. “Maybe they’d take my money and not give me anything,” she thought. She had some jewelry—a diamond ring and pin and several other pieces. She could get fifty dollars for those if she went to a pawnbroker.
Hurstwood was home before her. He had not thought she would be so long seeking.