gift had been given to her, Roberta now put the box on the
table, all the zest that might have been joined with it
completely banished.
“Did you have a good time last night, dear?” she queried,
curious as to the outcome of the event that had robbed her
of him.
“Oh, pretty good,” returned Clyde, anxious to put as
deceptive a face as possible on the night that had meant so
much to him and spelled so much danger to her. “I thought
I was just going over to my uncle’s for dinner like I told you.
But after I got there I found that what they really wanted me
An American Tragedy
500
for was to escort Bella and Myra over to some doings in
Gloversville. There’s a rich family over there, the Steeles—
big glove people, you know. Well, anyhow, they were giving
a dance and they wanted me to take them over because Gil
couldn’t go. But it wasn’t so very interesting. I was glad
when it was all over.” He used the names Bella, Myra and
Gilbert as though they were long and assured intimates of
his—an intimacy which invariably impressed Roberta
greatly.
“You didn’t get through in time then to come around here,
did you?”
“No, I didn’t, ‘cause I had to wait for the bunch to come
back. I just couldn’t get away. But aren’t you going to open
your present?” he added, anxious to divert her thoughts
from this desertion which he knew was preying on her mind.
She began to untie the ribbon that bound his gift, at the
same time that her mind was riveted by the possibilities of
the party which he had felt called upon to mention. What
girls beside Bella and Myra had been there? Was there by
any chance any girl outside of herself in whom he might
have become recently interested? He was always talking
about Sondra Finchley, Bertine Cranston and Jill Trumbull.
Were they, by any chance, at this party?
“Who all were over there beside your cousins?” she
suddenly asked.
“Oh, a lot of people that you don’t know. Twenty or thirty
from different places around here.”
“Any others from Lycurgus beside your cousins?” she
persisted.
“Oh, a few. We picked up Jill Trumbull and her sister,
because Bella wanted to. Arabella Stark and Perley Haynes
were already over there when we got there.” He made no
An American Tragedy
501
mention of Sondra or any of the others who so interested
him.
But because of the manner in saying it—something in the
tone of his voice and flick of his eyes, the answer did not
satisfy Roberta. She was really intensely troubled by this
new development, but did not feel that under the
circumstances it was wise to importune Clyde too much. He
might resent it. After all he had always been identified with
this world since ever she had known him. And she did not
want him to feel that she was attempting to assert any
claims over him, though such was her true desire.
“I wanted so much to be with you last night to give you your
present,” she returned instead, as much to divert her own
thoughts as to appeal to his regard for her. Clyde sensed
the sorrow in her voice and as of old it appealed to him,
only now he could not and would not let it take hold of him
as much as otherwise it might have.
“But you know how that was, Bert,” he replied, with almost
an air of bravado. “I just told you.”
“I know,” she replied sadly and attempting to conceal the
true mood that was dominating her. At the same time she
was removing the paper and opening the lid to the case
that contained her toilet set. And once opened, her mood
changed slightly because never before had she possessed
anything so valuable or original. “Oh, this is beautiful, isn’t
it?” she exclaimed, interested for the moment in spite of
herself. “I didn’t expect anything like this. My two little
presents won’t seem like very much now.”
She crossed over at once to get her gifts. Yet Clyde could
see that although his gift was exceptional, still it was not
sufficient to overcome the depression which his indifference
An American Tragedy
502
had brought upon her. His continued love was far more vital
than any present.
“You like it, do you?” he asked, eagerly hoping against
hope that it would serve to divert her.
“Of course, dear,” she replied, looking at it interestedly. “But
mine won’t seem so much,” she added gloomily, and not a
little depressed by the general outcome of all her plans.
“But they’ll be useful to you and you’ll always have them
near you, next your heart, where I want them to be.”
She handed over the small box which contained the metal
Eversharp pencil and the silver ornamental fountain pen
she had chosen for him because she fancied they would be
useful to him in his work at the factory. Two weeks before
he would have taken her in his arms and sought to console
her for the misery he was now causing her. But now he
merely stood there wondering how, without seeming too
distant, he could assuage her and yet not enter upon the
customary demonstrations. And in order so to do he burst
into enthusiastic and yet somehow hollow words in regard
to her present to him.
“Oh, gee, these are swell, honey, and just what I need. You
certainly couldn’t have given me anything that would come
in handier. I can use them all the time.” He appeared to
examine them with the utmost pleasure and afterwards
fastened them in his pocket ready for use. Also, because
for the moment she was before him so downcast and
wistful, epitomizing really all the lure of the old relationship,
he put his arms around her and kissed her. She was
winsome, no doubt of it. And then when she threw her arms
around his neck and burst into tears, he held her close,
saying that there was no cause for all this and that she
would be back Wednesday and all would be as before. At
the same time he was thinking that this was not true, and
An American Tragedy
503
how strange that was—seeing that only so recently he had
cared for her so much. It was amazing how another girl
could divert him in this way. And yet so it was. And although
she might be thinking that he was still caring for her as he
did before, he was not and never would again. And
because of this he felt really sorry for her.
Something of this latest mood in him reached Roberta now,
even as she listened to his words and felt his caresses.
They failed to convey sincerity. His manner was too
restless, his embraces too apathetic, his tone without real
tenderness. Further proof as to this was added when, after
a moment or two, he sought to disengage himself and look
at his watch, saying, “I guess I’ll have to be going now,
honey. It’s twenty of three now and that meeting is for
three. I wish I could ride over with you, but I’ll see you when
you get back.”
He bent down to kiss her but with Roberta sensing once
and for all, this time, that his mood in regard to her was
different, colder. He was interested and kind, but his
thoughts were elsewhere—and at this particular season of
the year, too—of all times. She tried to gather her strength
and her self-respect together and did, in part—saying rather
coolly, and determinedly toward the last: “Well, I don’t want
you to be late, Clyde. You better hurry. But I don’t want to
stay over there either later than Christmas night. Do you
suppose if I come back early Christmas afternoon, you will
come over here at all? I don’t want to be late Wednesday
for work.”
“Why, sure, of course, honey, I’ll be around,” replied Clyde
genially and even wholeheartedly, seeing that he had
nothing else scheduled, that he knew of, for then, and
would not so soon and boldly seek to evade her in this
fashion. “What time do you expect to get in?”
An American Tragedy
504
The hour was to be eight and he decided that for that
occasion, anyhow, a reunion would be acceptable. He drew
out his watch again and saying, “I’ll have to be going now,
though,” moved toward the door.
Nervous as to the significance of all this and concerned
about the future, she now went over to him and seizing his
coat lapels and looking into his eyes, half-pleaded and half-
demanded: “Now, this is sure for Christmas night, is it,
Clyde? You won’t make any other engagement this time,
will you?”
“Oh, don’t worry. You know me. You know I couldn’t help
that other, honey. but I’ll be on hand Tuesday, sure,” he