They had agreed it was best to walk, that morning at least, to see if she could do it every day-sixty cents a week for car fare being quite an item under the circumstances.
"I'll tell you how it goes to-night," said Carrie.
Once in the sunlit street, with labourers tramping by in either direction, the horse-cars passing crowded to the rails with the small clerks and floor help in the great wholesales houses, and men and women generally coming out of doors and passing about the neighourhood, Carrie felt slightly reassured.

In the sunshine of the morning, beneath the wide, blue heavens, with a fresh wind astir, what fears, except the most desperate, can find a harbourage?
In the night, or the gloomy chambers of the day, fears and misgivings wax strong, but out in the sunlight there is, for a time, cessation even of the terror of death.
Carrie went straight forward until she crossed the river, and then turned into Fifth Avenue.

The thoroughfare, in this part, was like a walled canon of brown stone and clean.

Trucks were rumbling in increasing numbers; men and woman, girls and boys were moving onward in all directions.

She met girls of her own age, who looked at her as if with contempt for her diffidence.