sister carrie

Chapter 63 (1)

Chapter 36 Going from bad to worse: a slim chance (1)
The Vance family returned to New York at Christmas, and they did not forget about Carrie, but they, or Mrs. Vance, did not visit Carrie, for the simple reason that Carrie never gave them the address. .According to her temperament, when she was still living on No. 70 Eighth Street, she still corresponded with Mrs. Vance. When she had to move to No. 13th Street, she was afraid that the other party would think that she was in a bad situation. If it was not good, she thought about how to avoid the need to inform others of her address.Unable to think of a good solution, she resignedly gave up the opportunity to correspond with this friend at all.Mrs. Vance was puzzled by this incomprehensible silence, and thought that Carrie must have left the city, and at last found it impossible to communicate with her.One day, when she went shopping, she suddenly met Carrie on No. 14 street, and she was very surprised.Carrie also went shopping.

"Ah, Mrs. Wheeler," said Mrs. Vance, casting a glance at Carrie for a moment, "where have you been? Why didn't you come and see me? I've been wondering, I don't know how you That's it. To tell you the truth, I—"

"It's a pleasure to see you," said Carrie, mixed with pleasure and embarrassment.But at this time, I met Mrs. Vance, "Well, I live in the downtown area here. I have always wanted to see you. Where do you live now?"

"On Eighth Street," said Mrs. Vance, "just past Seventh Street—218. Why don't you come and see me?"

"I'm coming," said Carrie. "I've been meaning to. I know I should too. It's embarrassing to say, but you know—"

"Where's your number?" said Mrs. Vance.

"No. 13th Street," said Carrie resignedly, "West 122nd."

"Oh," said Mrs. Vance, "it's about here at all, isn't it?"

"Yes," said Carrie, "please come and see me sometime."

"Well, you're a very nice fellow," said Mrs. Vance, laughing, noticing some change in Carrie's appearance. "The same goes for the address," she thought to herself. "It must be hard for them."

She still likes Carrie very much and wants to support her.

"Come in with me for a minute," she said aloud, turning and walking into a shop.

Carrie came home to find Hurstwood, as usual, reading the newspaper.He seemed indifferent to his own situation.The beard has not been shaved for four days.

"Oh," thought Carrie, "what if she comes here and sees him?"

She shook her head very sadly.Her situation seemed to be no longer bearable.

In desperation, she asked at dinner:
"Did you get any news from that wholesaler?"

"No," he said, "they don't need an inexperienced man."

Carrie put the subject aside, feeling unable to say anything more.

"I met Mrs. Vance this afternoon," she said after a while.

"Yes, eh?" he replied.

"They're back in New York now," continued Carrie. "She looks all right."

"Well, she can, if he can afford it," replied Hurstwood. "He's got a good job."

Hurstwood was reading a paper.He failed to see the infinitely sad and disapproving look Carrie was throwing at him.

"She said she wanted to come and visit us sometime."

"She's been hiding for a long time, hasn't she?" said Hurstwood sarcastically.

This woman was not to his liking for spending more money.

"Oh, I don't know that," said Carrie.She was offended by the man's attitude, "Maybe I don't want her to come yet."

"She loves to be merry so much," said Hurstwood, meaningfully, "that no one can keep up with her except riches."

"Mr. Vance doesn't seem to be short of time."

"Perhaps he's all right now," replied Hurstwood stubbornly, knowing what he meant; "but he's early. You don't know what the future holds. It went downhill like everyone else."

This man's attitude is quite vicious.His eyes squinted at some lucky man, hoping for their downfall.As for his own case, that was another matter--outside of discussion.

It was a vestige of his old self-confidence and self-assertion.Sitting at home, reading some other people's things, his old problem of self-assertion and blind stubbornness sometimes broke out.Forgetting the fatigue of running on the road and the humiliation of finding a job, he sometimes pricks up his ears.He seemed to be saying:
"I can do it. I'm not broken yet. There's a lot of things coming my way if I hold on tight."

It was with this mentality that he sometimes dressed up, went out to shave, put on his gloves, and rushed out the door excitedly.It's not that there is any definite purpose, but more like the ups and downs of the barometer, just thinking that now is a good time to go out and do something.

In such cases, his money went out with him.He was familiar with several poker tables in the downtown area.He has a few acquaintances in the downtown area and several hotels near the city hall.Meeting them and having a friendly chat about daily life is also a way to adjust life.When it comes to playing poker, he was very good at one point.I won more than 100 yuan by playing Wanwan many times. At that time, it was just to add a little interest to the game-not all for this purpose.Right now, he thought about playing poker.

"Maybe I can win a few hundred bucks on it. I'm not new to it."

To be honest, he had thought about this idea several times before he actually did it.

The first poker table he went to was in a hotel on West Street, not far from the ferry.He's been here before.There are several gaming tables playing.He looked around for a while.He noticed that, for each bet made, the number of bets won and lost was considerable.

"Deal me a card," he said as the deck was reshuffled.He pulled out a chair and studied his cards carefully.The gamblers silently sized him up, silently but extremely sharply.

He had little luck at first.The cards dealt have neither a straight nor a pair, so it is a miscellaneous deck.It's time to enter.

"I don't want it," he said.

With this deck, he'd rather lose his ante.He fought on, and later won the fight, and won a few dollars before he left.

He went again the next afternoon, both for fun and to win money.After getting a pair of "three of a kind", he insisted on playing, but lost.Sitting across the table was a good player, a pugnacious Irish boy and a politician from the district of Tammeny where the table was situated.The tenacity of the man astonished Hurstwood.He took his bets with ease.Hurstwood began to suspect, but he still kept his composure, or thought he was so calm, because in those days, he relied on this to trick his psychological loser at the gaming table.These people seem to study people's psychological and emotional conditions, however subtle, rather than acting on external evidence.He couldn't help the timid thought that this man had a good hand and would hold out to the end, and if necessary he would bet even the last dollar on it.But he was still hoping to win—he had the best cards.Why not add five bucks to it?
"I'll add you three yuan." The young man said.

"Five more," said Hurstwood, rolling out his chips.

"Let's add more." The boy said, pushing out a small handful of little red chips.

"Give me some more chips," said Hurstwood to the steward, producing a bill.

A grin appeared on the young opponent's face.When the chips were brought, Hurstwood added.

"Another five yuan," said the boy.

Hurstwood's brow was damp.He was betting big now--big for him.Sixty oceans have been added to his precious money.Normally, he was not a coward, but the thought of losing so much made him soften.Finally he gave in.He could no longer rely on the good cards in his hand.

"I see you," he said.

"Three pairs!" said the young man, laying out his cards.

Hurstwood's hand dropped.

"I thought I had you," he said weakly.

The young man collected all his chips, and Hurstwood left the table, stopped on the stairs, and counted the remaining money.

"340 oceans," he said.

Such a loss, plus the daily expenses, has removed a lot.

When he got home, he made up his mind that he would never gamble again.

Carrie recalled Mrs. Vance's promise to come and visit, and once again demurred mildly.It was about the Hurstwood instrument.It was on this same day that, as soon as he got home, he took off his clothes and put on the worn suit in which he was sitting.

"Why do you always wear these old clothes?" asked Carrie.

"What's the use of my good suit here?" he asked.

"Well, I think you'll feel better." Then, she added, "Maybe someone will come."

"Who?" he said.

"Well, Mrs. Vance," said Carrie.

"She doesn't need to see me." He said sullenly.

Such a lack of self-respect almost made Carrie hate him.

"Oh," she thought, "he sat there. And said, 'She needn't come and see me.' I thought he ought to be ashamed."

The misery of the matter was made worse by the fact that Mrs. Vance actually came to visit.This was what happened on one of Mrs. Vance's usual shopping trips.She walked towards the ordinary house and knocked on Carrie's door.What made Carrie more miserable afterward was that she happened not to be at home.Hurstwood opened the door, thinking it might be Carrie's knock.This time, I was really surprised.He heard again in his own heart the voice of his youthful pride that had long since disappeared.

"Ah," he really stuttered, "how are you?"

"Hello," said Mrs. Vance, who could hardly believe her eyes.She noticed at once the bewildered look on his face.He wondered if he should invite her in.

"Is your wife home?" she asked.

"No," he said, "Carrie is out; but come in, please. She'll be back in a moment."

"No—" said Mrs. Vance, aware of all that had changed, "I was in a real hurry. I was going to run over to have a look, but I couldn't stay. Please tell your wife, and be sure to ask her to come." play."

"I will," said Hurstwood, stepping back, relieved to see her go.He felt so ashamed that he crossed his hands listlessly in the rocker afterwards, thinking.

Carrie, coming home from the other direction, fancied she saw the shadow of Mrs. Vance going away.She opened her eyes and looked around, but still wasn't sure.

"Was anyone here just now?" she asked Hurstwood.

(End of this chapter)