Hurstwood resolved a thousands things, Drouet as well.  They joined equally in the burst of applause which called Carrie out.  Drouet pounded his hands until they ached.  Then he jumped up again and started out.  As he went, Carrie came out, and, seeing an immense basket of flowers being hurried down the aisle toward her she waited.  They were Hurstwood’s.  She looked toward the manager’s box for a moment, caught his eye, and smiled.  He could have leaped out of the box to enfold her.  He forgot the need of circumspectness which his married state enforced.  He almost forgot that he had with him in the box those who knew him.  By the Lord, he would have that lovely girl if it took his all.  He would act at once.  This should be the end of Drouet, and don’t you forget it.  He would not wait another day.  The drummer should not have her.

He was so excited that he could not stay in the box.  He went into the lobby, and then into the street, thinking.  Drouet did not return.  In a few minutes the last act was over, and he was crazy to have Carrie alone.  He cursed the luck that could keep him smiling, bowing, shamming, when he wanted to tell her that he loved her, when he wanted to whisper to her alone.  He groaned as he saw that his hopes were futile.  He must even take her to supper, shamming.  He finally went about and asked how she was getting along.  The actors were all dressing, talking, hurrying about.  Drouet was palavering himself with the looseness of excitement and passion.  The manager mastered himself only by a great effort.

“We are going to supper, of course,” he said, with a voice that was a mockery of his heart.

“Oh, yes,” said Carrie, smiling.

The little actress was in fine feather.  She was realizing now what it was to be petted.  For once she was the admired, the sought-for.  The independence of success now made its first faint showing.  With the tables turned, she was looking down, rather than up, to her lover.  She did not fully realize that this was so, but there was something in condescension coming from her which was infinitely sweet.  When she was ready they climbed into the waiting coach and drove down town; once, only, did she find an opportunity to express her feeling, and that was when the manager preceded Drouet in the coach and sat beside her.  Before Drouet was fully in she had squeezed Hurstwood’s hand in a gentle, impulsive manner.  The manager was beside himself with affection.  He could have sold his soul to be with her alone.  “Ah,” he thought, “the agony of it.”

Drouet hung on, thinking he was all in all.  The dinner was spoiled by his enthusiasm.  Hurstwood went home feeling as if he should die if he did not find affectionate relief.  He whispered “to-morrow” passionately to Carrie, and she understood.  He walked away from the drummer and his prize at parting feeling as if he could slay him and not regret.  Carrie also felt the misery of it.