He took that up as they walked along the avenue. It was a warm afternoon. The sun had come out and the wind had died down. As he talked with Carrie, he secured an accurate detail of the atmosphere of the flat.
"Come out of it," he said, "they won't care. I'll help you get along."
She listened until her misgivings vanished. He would show her about a little and then help her get something. He really imagined that he would. He would be out on the road and she could be working.
"Now, I'll tell you what you do," he said, "you go out there and get whatever you want and come away."
She thought a long time about this. Finally she agreed. He would come out as far as Peoria Street and wait for her. She was to meet him at half-past eight. At half-past five she reached home, and at six her determination was hardened.
"So you didn't get it?" said Minnie, referring to Carrie's story of the Boston Store.
Carrie looked at her out of the corner of her eye. "No," she answered.
"I don't think you'd better try any more this fall," said Minnie.
Carrie said nothing.
When Hanson came home he wore the same inscrutable demeanour. He washed in silence and went off to read his paper. At dinner Carrie felt a little nervous. The strain of her own plans was considerable, and the feeling that she was not welcome here was strong.