The only indication of his thoughts came in the form of a little clicking sound made by his tongue; the sound some people make when they wish to urge on a horse.
"Where do you suppose she's gone to ?" said Minnie thoroughly aroused.
"I don't know," a touch of cynicism lighting his eye.
"Now she has gone and done it." Minnie moved her head in a puzzled way.
"Oh, oh," she said, "she doesn't know what she has done." "Well," said Hanson after a while, sticking his hands out before him, "what can you do ?" Minnie's womanly nature was higher than this.

She figured the possibilities in such cases.
"Oh," she said at least, "poor Sister Carrie!" At the time of this particular conversation, which occurred at 5 am, that little soldier of fortune was sleeping in rather troubled sleep in her new room, alone.
Carrie's new state was remarkable in that she saw possibilities in it.
She was no sensualist, longing to drowse sleepily in the lap of luxury.
She turned about, troubled by her daring, glad of her release, wondering whether she would get something to do, wondering what Drouet would do.
That worthy had his future fixed for him beyond a peradventure.

He could not see clearly enough to wish to do differently.

He was drawn by his innate desire to act the old pursuing part.

He would need to delight himself with Carrie as surely as he would need to eat his heavy breakfast.