At the start of the novel, the narrator introduces Carrie’s naive worldview by employing verbal irony and foreshadowing. They hint at the vast changes and travels awaiting her:
To be sure there was always the next station, where one might descend and return. There was the great city, bound more closely by these very trains which came up daily. Columbia City was not so very far away, even once she was in Chicago. What, pray, is a few hours—a few hundred miles?
Dreiser uses the phrase "to be sure" in the novel many times. Every instance of this phrase is a moment of verbal irony. While ostensibly denoting confidence or certainty, “to be sure” in Sister Carrie is almost always utilized in contexts where a character is on the cusp of a misunderstanding or miscalculation. It's dangerous, Dreiser implies, "to be sure" of anything.
Here, the irony lies in Carrie’s sense of surety in the face of her limited experiences: "What, pray, is a few hours—a few hundred miles?" For someone like Carrie—who has never ventured outside of Wisconsin—such distances would have been monumental. Before high-speed travel like airplanes and cars became widely available, moves like her relocation from Wisconsin to Chicago would have been major lifetime events.
The passage also foreshadows the trajectory of Carrie's life. Throughout the course of the novel, the protagonist will make some major geographical moves, and this quote hints at the various cities and experiences in her future. The allusion to "the next station" and the possibility of descent and return suggests the choices and changes coming to Carrie's life. The implication is that once Carrie is swept away by her new life, a return to her roots will become an increasingly remote possibility. The phrase, "Columbia City was not so very far away, even once she was in Chicago," subtly emphasizes this impending chasm between her past and future.
When Hurstwood and Drouet see a prominent spiritualist entering the bar they’re drinking at, they engage in a wry back-and-forth full of verbal irony:
"See that fellow coming in there?" said Hurstwood, glancing at a gentleman just entering, arrayed in a high hat and Prince Albert coat, his fat cheeks puffed and red as with good eating. [...]
“Who is he?”
“That’s Jules Wallace, the spiritualist.”
Drouet followed him with his eyes, much interested.
“Doesn’t look much like a man who sees spirits, does he?” said Drouet.
“Oh, I don’t know,” returned Hurstwood. “He’s got the money, all right,” and a little twinkle passed over his eyes.
Hurstwood's comments here are highly ironic, but they seem to be somewhat lost on the more gullible Drouet. A “spiritualist” was someone who believed in communicating with the spirits of the deceased, often through mediums or séances. This movement gained significant popularity in both the United States and Europe in the Victorian period. Many adherents paid significant sums to “mediums” who claimed to be able to contact the dead. Drouet's statement suggests Wallace doesn't resemble a spiritualist who communicates with the deceased because he’s richly dressed and pink in the face.
Hurstwood's response, however, hints at another kind of "spirit." He thinks that the only kind of “spirit” this man “sees” regularly comes in a bottle. The phrase "He’s got the money, all right" is a witty insinuation with a double meaning, which the author emphasizes by mentioning the “twinkle” in Hurstwood’s eye. Spiritualists divided public opinion: lots of people believed in their abilities, but many others thought that they were quacks who exploited vulnerable people for their own gain. Here, Hurstwood is implying that Wallace has the means to "see spirits" in the form of expensive liquors because of the profits from his dubious career.
Carrie's personal aspirations to better herself lead her to spend part of her scanty funds on an umbrella. This situationally ironic choice, influenced by vanity, results in a rift with her financially conscious sister, Minnie. It also foreshadows Carrie’s later troubles:
On the first morning it rained [Carrie] found that she had no umbrella. Minnie loaned her one of hers, which was worn and faded. There was the kind of vanity in Carrie that troubled at this. She went to one of the great department stores and bought herself one, using a dollar and a quarter of her small store to pay for it.
"What did you do that for, Carrie?" asked Minnie, when she saw it.
"Oh, I need one," said Carrie.
"You foolish girl."
Carrie resented this, though she did not reply. She was not going to be a common shop-girl, she thought; they need not think it, either.
The irony here is multifaceted. Carrie wants to buy an umbrella because the one that’s being offered to her will make her look poor. However, she’s too poor to afford an umbrella without risking her financial future. Carrie's actions, driven by a need to appear as if she has disposable income, ironically bind her closer to a reality she is striving to avoid. Purchasing the umbrella isn't merely about protection from rain; it's symbolic of her desire to shield herself from the judgments of society. If she has a nice new umbrella, she believes people won’t think she is “common.”
Furthermore, the incident provides foreshadowing; readers see early signs of Carrie's inclination towards luxury, even when it’s impractical or actually risky. This rash choice hints at future ones like it, informed by a mix of vanity and ambition.
