Minnie to her husband when the latter came out, paper in hand, to sit in the dining-room a few minutes.
"She ought to keep it for a time, anyhow," said Hanson. "Has she gone downstairs?"
"Yes," said Minnie.
"I'd tell her to keep it if I were you. She might be here weeks without getting another one."
Minnie said she would, and Hanson read his paper.
"If I were you," he said a little later, "I wouldn't let her stand in the door down there. It don't look good."
"I'll tell her," said Minnie.
The life of the streets continued for a long time to interest Carrie. She never wearied of wondering where the people in the cars were going or what their enjoyments were. Her imagination trod a very narrow round, always winding up at points which concerned money, looks, clothes, or enjoyment. She would have a far-off thought of Columbia City now and then, or an irritating rush of feeling concerning her experiences of the present day, but, on the whole, the little world about her enlisted her whole attention.
The first floor of the building, of which Hanson's flat was the third, was occupied by a bakery, and to this, while she was standing there, Hanson came down to buy a loaf of bread. She was not aware of his presence until he was quite near her.
"I'm after bread," was all he said as he passed.
The contagion of thought here demonstrated itself. While Hanson really came for bread, the thought dwelt with him that now he would see what Carrie was doing. No sooner did he draw near her with that in mind than she felt it. Of course, she had no understanding of what put it into her head, but, nevertheless, it aroused in her the first shade of real antipathy to him. She knew now that she did not like him. He was suspicious.
