The magnet attracting a waif amid forces

part. "It's my turn, as we agreed the other day. All other bets are off." 
"Well, what do you say to this?" asked Drouet, innocently, while Carrie's 
mind bubbled with favourable replies. 
"You had better decide, Charlie," she said, reservedly. 
"I guess we had better go, if you can break that engagement upstairs," said 
Drouet. 
"Oh, I can," returned Carrie without thinking. 
Drouet selected writing paper while Carrie went to change her dress. She 
hardly explained to herself why this latest invitation appealed to her most. 
"Shall I wear my hair as I did yesterday?" she asked, as she came out with 
several articles of apparel pending. 
"Sure," he returned, pleasantly. 
She was relieved to see that he felt nothing. She did not credit her 
willingness to go to any fascination Hurstwood held for her. It seemed that 
the combination of Hurstwood, Drouet, and herself was more agreeable than 
anything else that had been suggested. She arrayed herself most carefully 
and they started off, extending excuses upstairs. 
"I say," said Hurstwood, as they came up the theatre lobby, "we are 
exceedingly charming this evening." 
Carrie fluttered under his approving glance. 

---

"Now, then," he said, leading the way up the foyer into the theatre. 
If ever there was dressiness it was here. It was the personification of the old 
term spick and span. 
"Did you ever see Jefferson?" he questioned, as he leaned toward Carrie in 
the box. 
"I never did," she returned. 
"He's delightful, delightful," he went on, giving the commonplace rendition of 
approval which such men know. He sent Drouet after a programme, and 
then discoursed to Carrie concerning Jefferson as he had heard of him. The 
former was pleased beyond expression, and was really hypnotised by the 
environment, the trappings of the box, the elegance of her companion. 
Several times their eyes accidentally met, and then there poured into hers 
such a flood of feeling as she had never before experienced. She could not 
for the moment explain it, for in the next glance or the next move of the 
hand there was seeming indifference, mingled only with the kindest 
attention. 
Drouet shared in the conversation, but he was almost dull in comparison. 
Hurstwood entertained them both, and now it was driven into Carrie's mind 
that here was the superior man. She instinctively felt that he was stronger 
and higher, and yet withal so simple. By the end of the third act she was 
sure that Drouet was only a kindly soul, but otherwise defective. He sank 
every moment in her estimation by the strong comparison. 
"I have had such a nice time," said Carrie, when it was all over and they 
were coming out. 
"Yes, indeed," added Drouet, who was not in the least aware that a battle 
had been fought and his defences weakened. He was like the Emperor of 
China, who sat glorying in himself, unaware that his fairest provinces were 
being wrested from him. 
"Well, you have saved me a dreary evening," returned Hurstwood. "Good-
night." 
He took Carrie's little hand, and a current of feeling swept from one to the 
other. 
"I'm so tired," said Carrie, leaning back in the car when Drouet began to 
talk. 
"Well, you rest a little while I smoke," he said, rising, and then he foolishly 
went to the forward platform of the car and left the game as it stood.