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第7章 堕心魔帝

　　"Well, we won't have much more of this weather," he said. "Itonly takes two weeks to get to Rome."

　　On her spiritual side, also, she was rich in feeling, as such anature well might be. Sorrow in her was aroused by many aspectacle--an uncritical upwelling of grief for the weak and thehelpless. She was constantly pained by the sight of the white-faced, ragged men who slopped desperately by her in a sort ofwretched mental stupor. The poorly clad girls who went blowingby her window evenings, hurrying home from some of the shops ofthe West Side, she pitied from the depths of her heart. Shewould stand and bite her lips as they passed, shaking her littlehead and wondering. They had so little, she thought. It was sosad to be ragged and poor. The hang of faded clothes pained hereyes.

　　"And a pot of coffee."

　　"Hell!" he muttered, as he put on his hat.

　　"So," she thought, "that's the way he does. Tells my friends Iam sick and cannot come."

　　"Never mind, now. I want to see Miss Madenda."

　　"No, sir."

　　"I don't know how to play," said Carrie.

　　"You," he said, "show this girl how to do what you're doing.When you get through, come to me."