ed heart. As she turned
the corner, she saw through the great shiny window the small desk at
which she had applied. There were the crowds, hurrying with the same
buzz and energy-yielding enthusiasm. She felt a slight relief, but it
was only at her escape. She felt ashamed in the face of better dressed
girls who went by. She felt as though she should be better served, and
her heart revolted.

Chapter V. A GLITTERING NIGHT FLOWER--THE USE OF A NAME

Drouet did not call that evening. After receiving the letter, he had
laid aside all thought of Carrie for the time being and was floating
around having what he considered a gay time. On this particular evening
he dined at "Rector's," a restaurant of some local fame, which occupied
a basement at Clark and Monroe Streets. There--after he visited the
resort of Fitzgerald and Moy's in Adams Street, opposite the imposing
Federal Building. There he leaned over the splendid bar and swallowed a
glass of plain whiskey and purchased a couple of cigars, one of which
he lighted. This to him represented in part high life--a fair sample of
what the whole must be. Drouet was not a drinker in excess. He was not a
moneyed man. He only craved the best, as his mind conceived it, and such
doings seemed to him a part of the best. Rector's, with its polished
marble walls and floor, its profusion of lights, its show of china and
silverware, and, above all, its reputation as a resort for actors and
professional men, seemed to him the proper place for a successful man to
go. He loved fine clothes, good eating, and particularly the company and
acquaintanceship of successful men. When dining, it was a source of keen
satisfaction to him to know that Joseph Jefferson was wont to come to
this same place, or that Henry E. Dixie, a well-known performer of the
day, was then only a few tables off. At Rector's he could always obtain
this satisfaction, for there one could encounter politicians, brokers,
actors, some rich young "rounders" of the town, all eating and drinking
amid a buzz of popular commonplace conversation.

"That's So-and-so over there," was a common remark of these gentlemen
among themselves, particularly among those who had not yet reached, but
hoped to do so, the dazzling height which money to dine here lavishly
represented.

"You don't say so," would be the reply.

"Why, yes, didn't you know that? Why, he's manager of the Grand Opera
House."

When these things would fall upon Dro