The train was now all but stopped. It was running by some cars on a side track. Everything outside was dark and dreary. A few sprinkles on the window began to indicate that it was raining. Carrie hung in a quandary, balancing between decision and helplessness. Now the train stopped, and she was listening to his plea. The engine backed a few feet and all was still.
She wavered, totally unable to make a move. Minute after minute slipped by and still she hesitated, he pleading.
"Will you let me come back if I want to?" she asked, as if she now had the upper hand and her companion was utterly subdued.
"Of course," he answered, "you know I will."
Carrie only listened as one who has granted a temporary amnesty. She began to feel as if the matter were in her hands entirely.
The train was again in rapid motion. Hurstwood changed the subject.
"Aren't you very tired?" he said.
"No," she answered.
"Won't you let me get you a berth in the sleeper?"
She shook her head, though for all her distress and his trickery she was beginning to notice what she had always felt—his thoughtfulness.
"Oh, yes," he said, "you will feel so much better."
She shook her head.
"Let me fix my coat for you, anyway," and he arose and arranged his light coat in a comfortable position to receive her head.
"There," he said tenderly, "now see if you can't rest a little." He could have kissed her for her compliance. He took his seat beside her and thought a moment.
"I believe we're in for a heavy rain," he said.
"So it looks," said Carrie, whose nerves were quieting under the sound of the rain drops, driven by a gusty
