They arose and went out into the street.  The downtown section was now bare, save for a few whistling strollers, a few owl cars, a few open resorts whose windows were still bright.  Out Wabash Avenue they strolled Drouet still pouring forth his volume of small information.  He had Carrie’s arm in his, and held it closely as be explained.  Once in a while, after some witticism, he would look down, and his eyes would meet hers.  At last they came to the steps, and Carrie stood up on the first one, her hand head now coming even with his own.  He took her hand and held it genially.  He looked steadily at her as she glanced about, warmly musing.

At about that hour, Minnie was soundly sleeping, after a long evening of troubled thought.  She had her elbow in an awkward position under her side.  The muscles so held irritated a few nerves, and now a vague scene floated in on the drowsy mind.  She fancied she and Carrie were somewhere beside an old coal-mine.  She could see the tall runway and the heap of earth and coal cast out.  There was a deep pit, into which they were looking; they could see the curious wet stones far down where the wall disappeared in vague shadows.  An old basket, used for descending, was hanging there, fastened by a worn rope.

" Let’s get in,” said Carrie.

" Oh, no,” said Minnie.

" Yes, come on,” said Carrie.

She began to pull the basket over, and now, in spite of all protest, she had swung over and was going down.

" Carrie,” she called, " Carrie, come back;” but Carrie was far down now and the shadow had swallowed her completely.

She moved her arm.

Now the mystic scenery merged queerly and the place was by waters she had never seen.  They were upon some board or ground or something that reached far out, and at the end of this was Carrie.  They looked about, and now the thing was sinking, and Minnie heard the low sip of the encroaching water.

" Come on, Carrie,” she called, but Carrie was reaching farther out.  She seemed to recede, and now it was difficult to call to her.

" Carrie,” she called, " Carrie,” but her own voice sounded far away, and the strange waters were blurring everything.  She came away suffering as though she had lost something.  She was more inexpressibly sad thus she had ever been in life.

It was this way through many shifts of the tired brain, those curious phantoms of the spirit slipping in, blurring strange scenes, one with the other.  The last one made her cry out, for Carrie was slipping away somewhere over a rock, and her fingers had let loose and she had seen her falling.

" Minnie!  What’s the matter?  Here, wake up,” said Hanson, disturbed, and shaking her by the shoulder.

" Wha-what’s the matter?” said Minnie, drowsily.

" Wake up,” he said, " and turn over.  You’re talking in your sleep.”

A week or so later Drouet strolled into Fitzgerald and Moy’s spruce in dress and manner.