"Why, any time you like," said Carrie.
"Well, to-morrow then.I'm living at the Chelsea now."
"Moved again?" exclaimed Carrie, laughing.
"Yes.You know I can't stay six months in one place.I just have to move.Remember now--half-past five."
"I won't forget," said Carrie, casting a glance at her as she went away.Then it came to her that she was as good as this woman now--perhaps better.Something in the other's solicitude and interest made her feel as if she were the one to condescend.
Now, as on each preceding day, letters were handed her by the doorman at the Casino.This was a feature which had rapidly developed since Monday.What they contained she well knew.MASH
NOTES were old affairs in their mildest form.She remembered having received her first one far back in Columbia City.Since then, as a chorus girl, she had received others--gentlemen who prayed for an engagement.They were common sport between her and Lola, who received some also.They both frequently made light of them.
Now, however, they came thick and fast.Gentlemen with fortunes did not hesitate to note, as an addition to their own amiable collection of virtues, that they had their horses and carriages.
Thus one:
"I have a million in my own right.I could give you every luxury.There isn't anything you could ask for that you couldn't have.I say this, not because I want to speak of my money, but because I love you and wish to gratify your every desire.It is love that prompts me to write.Will you not give me one half-
hour in which to plead my cause?"
Such of these letters as came while Carrie was still in the Seventeenth Street place were read with more interest--though never delight--than those which arrived after she was installed in her luxurious quarters at the Wellington.Even there her vanity--or that self-appreciation which, in its more rabid form, is called vanity--was not sufficiently cloyed to make these things wearisome.Adulation, being new in any form, pleased her.