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“
Well
?
”
said
Hurstwood
.
“
I
gave
it
to
her
.
”
“
My
wife
?
”
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“
Yes
,
sir
.
”
“
Any
answer
?
”
“
She
said
it
was
high
time
.
”
Hurstwood
scowled
fiercely
.
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There
was
no
more
to
be
done
upon
that
score
that
night
.
He
went
on
brooding
over
his
situation
until
midnight
,
when
he
repaired
again
to
the
Palmer
House
.
He
wondered
what
the
morning
would
bring
forth
,
and
slept
anything
but
soundly
upon
it
.
Next
day
he
went
again
to
the
office
and
opened
his
mail
,
suspicious
and
hopeful
of
its
contents
.
No
word
from
Carrie
.
Nothing
from
his
wife
,
which
was
pleasant
.
The
fact
that
he
had
sent
the
money
and
that
she
had
received
it
worked
to
the
ease
of
his
mind
,
for
,
as
the
thought
that
he
had
done
it
receded
,
his
chagrin
at
it
grew
less
and
his
hope
of
peace
more
.
He
fancied
,
as
he
sat
at
his
desk
,
that
nothing
would
be
done
for
a
week
or
two
.
Meanwhile
,
he
would
have
time
to
think
.
This
process
of
thinking
began
by
a
reversion
to
Carrie
and
the
arrangement
by
which
he
was
to
get
her
away
from
Drouet
.
How
about
that
now
?
His
pain
at
her
failure
to
meet
or
write
him
rapidly
increased
as
he
devoted
himself
to
this
subject
.
He
decided
to
write
her
care
of
the
West
Side
Post
-
office
and
ask
for
an
explanation
,
as
well
as
to
have
her
meet
him
.
The
thought
that
this
letter
would
probably
not
reach
her
until
Monday
chafed
him
exceedingly
.