It was such a place as she had often dreamed of occupying.
"I guess we'd better move right away, don't you think so?" she observed to Lola, thinking of the commonplace chamber in Seventeenth Street.
"Oh, by all means," said the latter.
The next day her trunks left for the new abode.
Dressing, after the matinée on Wednesday, a knock came at her dressing-room door.
Carrie looked at the card handed by the boy and suffered a shock of surprise.
"Tell her I'll be right out," she said softly. Then, looking at the card, added: "Mrs. Vance."
"Why, you little sinner," the latter exclaimed, as she saw Carrie coming toward her across the now vacant stage. "How in the world did this happen?"
Carrie laughed merrily. There was no trace of embarrassment in her friend's manner. You would have thought that the long separation had come about accidentally.
"I don't know," returned Carrie, warming, in spite of her first troubled feelings, toward this handsome, good-natured young matron.
"Well, you know, I saw your picture in the Sunday paper, but your name threw me off. I thought it must be you or somebody that looked just like you, and I said: 'Well, now, I will go right down there and see.' I was never more surprised in my life. How are you anyway?"
"Oh, very well," returned Carrie. "How have you been?"
"Fine. But aren't you a success! Dear, oh! All the papers talking about you. I should think you would be just too proud to breathe. I was almost afraid to come back here this afternoon."
