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| Pussy There was nothing there which she could not have used- nothing which she did not long to own. The dainty slippers and stockings, the delicately frilled skirts and petticoats, the laces, ribbons, hair-combs, purses, all touched her with individual desire, and she felt keenly the fact that not any of these things were in the range of her purchase. Anger began to fill his whole being. He was a father. How can someone do this to his kid. She was a work-seeker, an outcast without employment, one Free Pussy whom the average employee could tell at a glance was poor and in need of a situation. It must not be thought that any one could have mistaken her for a nervous, sensitive, high-strung nature, cast unduly upon a cold, calculating, and unpoetic world. Such certainly she was not. But women are peculiarly sensitive to their adornment. Not only did Carrie feel the drag of desire for all which was new and pleasing in apparel for women, but  she noticed too, with a touch at the heart, the fine ladies who elbowed and ignored her, brushing past in utter disregard of her presence, themselves eagerly enlisted in the materials which the store contained. Carrie was not familiar with the appearance of her more fortunate sisters of the city. Neither had she before known the nature and appearance of the shop girls with whom she now compared poorly. They were pretty in the main, some even handsome, with an air of independence and Free Pussy indifference which added, in the case of Free Pussy the more favoured, a certain piquancy. Their clothes were neat, in many instances fine, and wherever she encountered the eye of one it was only to recognise in it a keen analysis of her own position- her individual shortcomings of dress and that shadow of manner which she thought must hang about her and make clear to all who and what she was.He drew up his chair and modulated his voice to such a degree that what he said seemed wholly confidential. He confined himself almost exclusively to his observation of men and pleasures. He had been here and there, he had seen this and that. Somehow he made Carrie wish to see similar things, and all the while kept her aware of himself. A flame of envy lighted in Free Pussy her heart. She realised in a dim way how much the city held- wealth, fashion, ease- every adornment for women, and she longed for dress and beauty with a whole heart. Are you hungry? Have you had anything to eat? On the second floor were the managerial offices, to which, after some inquiry, she was now directed. There she found other girls ahead of her, applicants like herself, but with more of that self-satisfied and independent air which experience of the city lends; girls who scrutinised 
her in a painful manner. After a wait of Free Pussy perhaps three-quarters of an hour, she was called in turn. "Now," said a sharp, quick-mannered Jew, who was sitting at a roll-top desk near the window, "have you ever worked in any other store?" "No, sir," said Carrie. "Oh, you haven't," he said, eyeing her keenly. "No, sir," she replied. "Well, we prefer young women just now with some experience. I guess we can't use you." Carrie stood waiting a moment, hardly certain whether the interview had terminated. "Don't wait!" freepussy he exclaimed. "Remember we are very busy here." Free Pussy Carrie began to move quickly to Free Pussy the door. "Hold on," he said, calling her back. "Give me your name and address. We want girls occasionally." When she had gotten safely into the street, she could scarcely restrain the tears. It was not so much the particular rebuff which she had just experienced, but the whole abashing trend of the day. She was tired and nervous. She abandoned the thought of appealing to the other department stores and now wandered on, feeling a certain safety Free Pussy and relief in mingling with the crowd. In her indifferent wandering she turned into Jackson Street, not far from the river, and was keeping her way along the south side of that imposing thoroughfare, when a piece of wrapping paper, written on with marking ink and tacked up on the door, attracted her attention. It read, "Girls wanted- wrappers & stitchers." She hesitated a moment, then entered. The firm of Speigelheim & Co., makers of boys' caps, occupied Free Pussy one floor of the building, fifty feet in width and some eighty feet in depth. It was a place rather dingily lighted, the darkest portions having incandescent lights, filled with machines and work benches. It's ok. I had a big lunch. At the latter laboured quite a company of girls and some men. The former were drabby-looking creatures, stained in face with oil and dust, clad in thin, shapeless, cotton dresses and shod with more or less worn shoes. Many of them had their freepussy sleeves rolled up, revealing bare arms, and in some cases, owing to the heat, their dresses were open at the neck. |
