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2020-08-07 11:36:47  Դձ
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"Don't you think Mr. Barclay's pretty nice?" inquired Lola, whohad received a condescending smile or two from that quarter.

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"Yes, that is a great resort for Chicago people. The hotels areswell. You are not familiar with this part of the country, areyou?"

"I'm all right," said Carrie, smiling.

That night it was that she passed Hurstwood, waiting at theCasino, without observing him.

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The one thought that strengthened him was the insult offered byCarrie. He was not down so low as to take all that, he thought.He could do something--this, even--for a while. It would getbetter. He would save a little.<"Ten more."

The advertisements were already in the papers; the posters uponthe bill-boards. The leading lady and many members were cited.Carrie was nothing.

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"It would be a good thing if they did," he went on, half tohimself, half to her, though he felt that something was amiss inthat quarter. He withdrew his attention to his paper verycircumspectly, listening mentally for the little sounds whichshould show him what was on foot.

While they were still conferring there, several other ofHurstwood's friends entered, and not long after eleven, thetheatres being out, some actors began to drop in--among them somenotabilities.

<"Well," said Carrie, hesitating how to begin, "do you get placesfor persons upon the stage?""You are to use this room, Miss Madenda," said one of the stagelackeys.

"Yes, sir," said Miss Maitland.

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"He was going to Wheaton," said Jessica, not noticing the slightput upon her father.

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Ʊappޱֱί¹ڷƷ The contagion of thought here demonstrated itself. While Hansonreally came for bread, the thought dwelt with him that now hewould see what Carrie was doing. No sooner did he draw near herwith that in mind than she felt it. Of course, she had nounderstanding of what put it into her head, but, nevertheless, itaroused in her the first shade of real antipathy to him. Sheknew now that she did not like him. He was suspicious. ϸ

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ƱappӲζʽϮ3ʱԷ During all this time--a period rapidly approaching three years--Hurstwood had been moving along in an even path. There was noapparent slope downward, and distinctly none upward, so far asthe casual observer might have seen. But psychologically therewas a change, which was marked enough to suggest the future verydistinctly indeed. This was in the mere matter of the halt hiscareer had received when he departed from Chicago. A man'sfortune or material progress is very much the same as his bodilygrowth. Either he is growing stronger, healthier, wiser, as theyouth approaching manhood, or he is growing weaker, older, lessincisive mentally, as the man approaching old age. There are noother states. Frequently there is a period between the cessationof youthful accretion and the setting in, in the case of themiddle-aged man, of the tendency toward decay when the twoprocesses are almost perfectly balanced and there is little doingin either direction. Given time enough, however, the balancebecomes a sagging to the grave side. Slowly at first, then witha modest momentum, and at last the graveward process is in thefull swing. So it is frequently with man's fortune. If itsprocess of accretion is never halted, if the balancing stage isnever reached, there will be no toppling. Rich men are,frequently, in these days, saved from this dissolution of theirfortune by their ability to hire younger brains. These youngerbrains look upon the interests of the fortune as their own, andso steady and direct its progress. If each individual were leftabsolutely to the care of his own interests, and were given timeenough in which to grow exceedingly old, his fortune would passas his strength and will. He and his would be utterly dissolvedand scattered unto the four winds of the heavens. ϸ

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