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She was eighteen years of age, bright, timid, and full of the illusions of ignorance and youth. |
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When a girl leaves her home at eighteen, she does one of two things. Either she falls into saving hands and becomes better, or she rapidly assumes the cosmopolitan standard of virtue and becomes worse. Of an intermediate balance, under the circumstances, there is no possibility. |
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x stared gazed out of the window. Her companion, affected by her wonder, so contagious are all things, felt anew some interest in the city and pointed out its marvels. |
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x realised the change of affectional atmosphere at once. Amid all the maze, uproar, and novelty she felt cold reality taking her by the hand. No world of light and merriment. No round of amusement. Her sister carried with her most of the grimness of shift and toil. |
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She sealed and addressed the letter, and going in the front room, the alcove of which contained her bed, drew the one small rocking-chair up to the open window, and sat looking out upon the night and streets in silent wonder. Finally, wearied by her own reflections, she began to grow dull in her chair, and feeling the need of sleep, arranged her clothing for the night and went to bed. |
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It would have been better if her acclimatization had been more gradual--less rigid. She would have done better if she had not secured a position so quickly, and had seen more of the city which she constantly troubled to know about. |
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One night she got thoroughly soaked, going to catch the car at Van Buren St. All that evening she sat alone in the front room looking out upon the street, where the lights were reflected on the wet pavements, thinking. She had imagination enough to be moody. |
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She felt so relieved in his radiant presence, so much looked after and cared for, that she assented gladly, though with the slightest air of holding back. |
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To her, and indeed to all the world, he was a nice, good-hearted man. There was nothing evil in the fellow. He gave her the money out of a good heart--out of a realisation of her want. |
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Definition
Sister Carrie; Carrie about Drouet |
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In his good clothes and fine health, he was merry, unthinkable moth of the lamp. Deprived of his position, and struck by a few of the involved and baffling forces which sometimes play upon man he would have been as helpless as x--as helpless, as non-understanding, as pitiable, if you will, as she. |
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No deep, sinister soul with ulterior motives could have given her fifteen cents under the guise of friendship. The unintellectual are not so helpless. |
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Just a shade of a thought of the hour entered x's head, but there was no household law govern her now. If any habits ever had time to fix upon her, they would have operated here. Habits are peculiar things. |
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She was again the victim of the city's hypnotic influence. |
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In the light of the world's attitude toward woman and her duties, the nature of x's mental state deserves consideration. Actions such as hers are measured by an arbitrary scale...All men should be good, all women virtuous. |
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In a dim way, she was beginning to see where he lacked. If it had not been for this, if she had not been worse off than she was. She would have adored him...She was not exactly sure what she thought of him--what she wanted to do. |
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Sister Carrie; Carrie about Drouet |
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He was in the best form for entertaining this evening. His clothes were particularly new and rich in appearance. |
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x was an apt student of fortune's ways--of fortune's superficialities. Seeing a thing, she would immediately set to inquiring how she would look, properly related to it. |
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In his hearty way, he insisted upon her good looks. He looked at her admiringly, and she took it at its full value. Under the circumstances, she did not need to carry herself as pretty women do. |
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Sister Carrie; Carrie and Drouet |
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Term
He loved the thing that women love in themselves, grace. At this, their own shrine, he knelt with them, an ardent devotee. |
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He little knew as he went out of the door that night what a secret flame he had kindled in the bosom of the girl he left behind. x was possessed of that sympathetic, impressionable nature which, ever in the most developed form, has been the glory of the drama. |
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Definition
Sister Carrie; Carrie and Hurstwood |
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Under his airy accusation she mistook this for vanity and accepted the blame with a faint sense of error, though, as a matter of fact, it was nothing more than the first subtle outcroppings of an artistic nature... |
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"Let the woman you look upon be wise or vain," said x, her eyes bent sadly upon the lover, who had sunk into a seat, "beautiful or homely, rich or poor, sh has but one thing she can really give or refuse--her heart." |
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"Her beauty, her wit, her accomplishments, she may sell to you; but her love is the treasure without money an without price." |
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Every motion, every glance had something in it of the pleasure he felt in x, of the zest this new pursuit of pleasure lent to his days. y felt something, sniffing change, as animals do danger, afar off. |
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Sister Carrie; Mrs. Hurstwood |
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She was listening, smiling, approving, and yet not finally agreeing. This was due to a lack of power on his part, a lack of that majesty of passion that sweeps the mind from the its seat, fuses and melts all arguments and theories into a tangled mass... |
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X could feel that she was being borne a long distance off--that the engine was making an almost through run to some distant city. |
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