She saw that she was taken to be of the same sort and addressed accordingly.
"Hello," remarked one of the stout-wristed sole-workers to her at noon.
"You're a daisy." He really expected to hear the common "Aw! go chase yourself!" in return, and was sufficiently abashed, by Carrie's silently moving away, to retreat, awkwardly grinning.
That night at the flat she was even more lonely--the dull situation was becoming harder to endure.

She could see that the Hansons seldom or never had any company.

Standing at the street door looking out, she ventured to walk out a little way.

Her easy gait and idle manner attracted attention of an offensive but common sort.

She was slightly taken back at the overtures of a well-dressed man of thirty, who in passing looked at her, reduced his pace, turned back, and said: "Out for a little stroll, are you, this evening ?" Carrie looked at him in amazement, and then summoned sufficient thought to reply: "Why, I don't know you," backing away as she did so.
"Oh, that don't matter," said the other affably.
She bandied no more words with him, but hurried away, reaching her own door quite out of breath.