Sister Carrie: Chapters 1–7

She gazed at the green landscape, now passing in swift review, until her swifter thoughts replaced its impression with vague conjectures of what Chicago might be.

A blare of sound, a roar of life, a vast array of human hives, appeal to the astonished senses in equivocal terms. Without a counsellor at hand to whisper cautious interpretations, what falsehoods may not these things breathe into the unguarded ear!

A half-equipped little knight she was, venturing to reconnoitre the mysterious city and dreaming wild dreams of some vague, far-off supremacy, which should make it prey and subject—the proper penitent, grovelling at a woman’s slipper.

He leaned forward to put his elbows upon the back of her seat and proceeded to make himself volubly agreeable.

Here was a type of the travelling canvasser for a manufacturing house—a class which at that time was first being dubbed by the slang of the day “drummers.”

Her manner was simple, though for the very reason that she had not yet learned the many little affectations with which women conceal their true feelings.

Here were these two, bandying little phrases, drawing purses, looking at cards, and both unconscious of how inarticulate all their real feelings were.

It had been tacitly understood beforehand that she was to get work and pay her board.

Things would go on, though, in a dim kind of way until the better thing would eventuate, and Carrie would be rewarded for coming and toiling in the city. It was under such auspicious circumstances that she started out this morning to look for work.

The huge railroad corporations which had long before recognised the prospects of the place had seized upon vast tracts of land for transfer and shipping purposes.

It gave an imposing appearance to most of the wholesale houses, whose offices were upon the ground floor and in plain view of the street. The large plates of window glass, now so common, were then rapidly coming into use, and gave to the ground floor offices a distinguished and prosperous look.

She could have understood the meaning of a little stone-cutter’s yard at Columbia City, carving little pieces of marble for individual use, but when the yards of some huge stone corporation came into view, filled with spur tracks and flat cars, transpierced by docks from the river and traversed overhead by immense trundling cranes of wood and steel, it lost all significance in her little world.

She began to step backward toward the door, when something about her plaintive face attracted him.

Some time she spent in wandering up and down, thinking to encounter the buildings by chance, so readily is the mind, bent upon prosecuting a hard but needful errand, eased by that self-deception which the semblance of search, without the reality, gives.

They were pretty in the main, some even handsome, with an air of independence and indifference which added, in the case of the more favoured, a certain piquancy.

When she had gotten safely into the street, she could scarcely restrain the tears. It was not so much the particular rebuff which she had just experienced, but the whole abashing trend of the day.

On every hand, to her fatigued senses, the great business portion grew larger, harder, more stolid in its indifference.

Her fancy plunged recklessly into privileges and amusements which would have been much more becoming had she been cradled a child of fortune.

This never showed so much in anything he said as in a certain solemnity of countenance and the silent manner in which he slopped about.

She was glad to be out of the flat, because already she felt that it was a narrow, humdrum place, and that interest and joy lay elsewhere.

Her shoes were old, and her necktie was in that crumpled, flattened state which time and much wearing impart.

She would be scolded, abused, ignominiously discharged.

She followed him diffidently through the clattering automatons, keeping her eyes straight before her, and flushing slightly.

The washrooms were disagreeable, crude, if not foul places, and the whole atmosphere was sordid.

As Carrie listened to this and much more of similar familiar badinage among the men and girls, she instinctively withdrew into herself.

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.

The chief executive and financial functions devolved upon the owners—Messrs. Fitzgerald and Moy—and upon a cashier who looked after the money taken in.

There was a class, however, too rich, too famous, or too successful, with whom he could not attempt any familiarity of address, and with these he was professionally tactful, assuming a grave and dignified attitude, paying them the deference which would win their good feeling without in the least compromising his own bearing and opinions.

Hurstwood was standing, his coat open, his thumbs in his pockets, the light on his jewels and rings relieving them with agreeable distinctness. He was the picture of fastidious comfort.

It seems plain that schemers would choose more sequestered quarters to arrange their plans, that politicians would not gather here in company to discuss anything save formalities, where the sharp-eared may hear...

Remove the element so thoroughly and solely complained of and there would not be one to gainsay the qualities of beauty and enthusiasm which would remain.

Yet, here is the fact of the lighted chamber, the dressy, greedy company, the small, self-interested palaver, the disorganized, aimless, wandering mental action which it represents—the love of light and show and finery which, to one outside, under the serene light of the eternal stars, must seem a strange and shiny thing.

Minnie, after the good spirits Carrie manifested at first, expected a fair report.

Her thoughts were staid and solemnly adapted to a condition.

She was slightly taken back at the overtures of a well-dressed man of thirty, who in passing looked at her, reduced his pace, turned back, and said: “Out for a little stroll, are you, this evening?”

Drouet selected a table close by the window, where the busy rout of the street could be seen.

Carrie had none of the small deception which could feel one thing and say something directly opposed. She would prevaricate, but it would be in the line of her feelings at least.

She came upon the corset counter and paused in rich reverie as she noted the dainty concoctions of colour and lace there displayed.

He carried the arrangement off with an easy hand when it came to the selection, looking around, criticising, opining.

Minnie remembered Hanson’s remonstrance. “Sven doesn’t think it looks good to stand down there,” she said.