Sister Carrie Theodore Dreiser (e reader books TXT) đ
- Author: Theodore Dreiser
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Such of these letters as came while Carrie was still in the Seventeenth Street place were read with more interestâ âthough never delightâ âthan those which arrived after she was installed in her luxurious quarters at the Wellington. Even there her vanityâ âor that self-appreciation which, in its more rabid form, is called vanityâ âwas not sufficiently cloyed to make these things wearisome. Adulation, being new in any form, pleased her. Only she was sufficiently wise to distinguish between her old condition and her new one. She had not had fame or money before. Now they had come. She had not had adulation and affectionate propositions before. Now they had come. Wherefore? She smiled to think that men should suddenly find her so much more attractive. In the least way it incited her to coolness and indifference.
âDo look here,â she remarked to Lola. âSee what this man says: âIf you will only deign to grant me one half-hour,âââ she repeated, with an imitation of languor. âThe idea. Arenât men silly?â
âHe must have lots of money, the way he talks,â observed Lola.
âThatâs what they all say,â said Carrie, innocently.
âWhy donât you see him,â suggested Lola, âand hear what he has to say?â
âIndeed I wonât,â said Carrie. âI know what heâd say. I donât want to meet anybody that way.â
Lola looked at her with big, merry eyes.
âHe couldnât hurt you,â she returned. âYou might have some fun with him.â
Carrie shook her head.
âYouâre awfully queer,â returned the little, blue-eyed soldier.
Thus crowded fortune. For this whole week, though her large salary had not yet arrived, it was as if the world understood and trusted her. Without moneyâ âor the requisite sum, at leastâ âshe enjoyed the luxuries which money could buy. For her the doors of fine places seemed to open quite without the asking. These palatial chambers, how marvellously they came to her. The elegant apartments of Mrs. Vance in the Chelseaâ âthese were hers. Men sent flowers, love notes, offers of fortune. And still her dreams ran riot. The one hundred and fifty! the one hundred and fifty! What a door to an Aladdinâs cave it seemed to be. Each day, her head almost turned by developments, her fancies of what her fortune must be, with ample money, grew and multiplied. She conceived of delights which were notâ âsaw lights of joy that never were on land or sea. Then, at last, after a world of anticipation, came her first installment of one hundred and fifty dollars.
It was paid to her in greenbacksâ âthree twenties, six tens, and six fives. Thus collected it made a very convenient roll. It was accompanied by a smile and a salutation from the cashier who paid it.
âAh, yes,â said the latter, when she applied; âMiss Madendaâ âone hundred and fifty dollars. Quite a success the show seems to have made.â
âYes, indeed,â returned Carrie.
Right after came one of the insignificant members of the company, and she heard the changed tone of address.
âHow much?â said the same cashier, sharply. One, such as she had only recently been, was waiting for her modest salary. It took her back to the few weeks in which she had collectedâ âor rather had receivedâ âalmost with the air of a domestic, four-fifty per week from a lordly foreman in a shoe factoryâ âa man who, in distributing the envelopes, had the manner of a prince doling out favours to a servile group of petitioners. She knew that out in Chicago this very day the same factory chamber was full of poor homely-clad girls working in long lines at clattering machines; that at noon they would eat a miserable lunch in a half-hour; that Saturday they would gather, as they had when she was one of them, and accept the small pay for work a hundred times harder than she was now doing. Oh, it was so easy now! The world was so rosy and bright. She felt so thrilled that she must needs walk back to the hotel to think, wondering what she should do.
It does not take money long to make plain its impotence, providing the desires are in the realm of affection. With her one hundred and fifty in hand, Carrie could think of nothing particularly to do. In itself, as a tangible, apparent thing which she could touch and look upon, it was a diverting thing for a few days, but this soon passed. Her hotel bill did not require its use. Her clothes had for some time been wholly satisfactory. Another day or two and she would receive another hundred and fifty. It began to appear as if this were not so startlingly necessary to maintain her present state. If she wanted to do anything better or move higher she must have moreâ âa great deal more.
Now a critic called to get up one of those tinsel interviews which shine with clever observations, show up the wit of critics, display the folly of celebrities, and divert the public. He liked Carrie, and said so, publiclyâ âadding, however, that she was merely pretty, good-natured, and lucky. This cut like a knife. The Herald, getting up an entertainment for the benefit of its free ice fund, did her the honour to beg her to appear along with celebrities for nothing. She was visited by a young author, who had a play which he thought she could produce. Alas, she could not judge. It hurt her to think it. Then she found she must put her money in the bank for safety, and so moving, finally reached the place where it struck her that the door to lifeâs perfect enjoyment was not open.
Gradually she began to think it was because it was summer. Nothing was going on much save such entertainments as the one in which she was star. Fifth Avenue was boarded up where the rich had deserted their mansions. Madison Avenue was little better. Broadway was full of loafing thespians in search of next season engagements. The whole city
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