might be ready to fall in love. And Gilbert checkmated by
his social popularity. What would you say to that? It
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testified, as he saw it now, that at least his relatives had not
forgotten him or that, because of his recent success in other
directions, they were finding it necessary to be civil to him—
a thought that was the same as the bays of victory to a
contestant. He viewed it with as much pleasure almost as
though there had never been any hiatus at all.
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Chapter 31
UNFORTUNATELY, however, the Christmas dinner at the
Griffiths’, which included the Starks and their daughter
Arabella, Mr. and Mrs. Wynant, who in the absence of their
daughter Constance with Gilbert were dining with the
Griffiths, the Arnolds, Anthonys, Harriets, Taylors and
others of note in Lycurgus, so impressed and even
overawed Clyde that although five o’clock came and then
six, he was incapable of breaking away or thinking clearly
and compellingly of his obligation to Roberta. Even when,
slightly before six, the greater portion of those who had
been thus cheerfully entertained began rising and making
their bows and departing (and when he, too, should have
been doing the same and thinking of his appointment with
Roberta), being accosted by Violet Taylor, who was part of
the younger group, and who now began talking of some
additional festivities to be held that same evening at the
Anthonys’, and who added most urgently, “You’re coming
with us, aren’t you? Sure you are,” he at once acquiesced,
although his earlier promise to Roberta forced the
remembrance that she was probably already back and
expecting him. But still he had time even now, didn’t he?
Yet, once at the Anthonys’, and talking and dancing with
various girls, the obligation faded. But at nine he began
worrying a little. For by this time she must be in her room
and wondering what had become of him and his promise.
And on Christmas night, too. And after she had been away
three days.
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Inwardly he grew more and more restless and troubled, the
while outwardly he maintained that same high spirit that
characterized him throughout the afternoon. Fortunately for
his own mood, this same group, having danced and
frolicked every night for the past week until almost
nervously exhausted, it now unanimously and
unconsciously yielded to weariness and at eleven thirty,
broke up. And after having escorted Bella Griffiths to her
door, Clyde hurried around to Elm Street to see if by any
chance Roberta was still awake.
As he neared the Gilpins’ he perceived through the snow-
covered bushes and trees the glow of her single lamp. And
for the time being, troubled as to what he should say—how
excuse himself for this inexplicable lapse—he paused near
one of the large trees that bordered the street, debating
with himself as to just what he would say. Would he insist
that he had again been to the Griffiths’, or where? For
according to his previous story he had only been there the
Friday before. In the months before when he had no social
contacts, but was merely romanticizing in regard to them,
the untruths he found himself telling her caused him no
twinges of any kind. They were not real and took up no
actual portion of his time, nor did they interfere with any of
his desired contacts with her. But now in the face of the
actuality and the fact that these new contacts meant
everything to his future, as he saw it, he hesitated. His
quick conclusion was to explain his absence this evening by
a second invitation which had come later, also by
asseverating that the Griffiths being potentially in charge of
his material welfare, it was becoming more and more of a
duty rather than an idle, evasive pleasure to desert her in
this way at their command. Could he help it? And with this
half-truth permanently fixed in his mind, he crossed the
snow and gently tapped at her window.
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At once the light was extinguished and a moment later the
curtain lifted. Then Roberta, who had been mournfully
brooding, opened the door and admitted him, having
previously lit a candle as was her custom in order to avoid
detection as much as possible, and at once he began in a
whisper:
“Gee, but this society business here is getting to be the
dizzy thing, honey. I never saw such a town as this. Once
you go with these people one place to do one thing, they
always have something else they want you to do. They’re
on the go all the time. When I went there Friday (he was
referring to his lie about having gone to the Griffiths’), I
thought that would be the last until after the holidays, but
yesterday, and just when I was planning to go somewhere
else, I got a note saying they expected me to come there
again to-day for dinner sure.”
“And to-day when I thought the dinner would begin at two,”
he continued to explain, “and end in time for me to be
around here by eight like I said, it didn’t start until three and
only broke up a few minutes ago. Isn’t that the limit? And I
just couldn’t get away for the last four hours. How’ve you
been, honey? Did you have a good time? I hope so. Did
they like the present I gave you?”
He rattled off these questions, to which she made brief and
decidedly terse replies, all the time looking at him as much
as to say, “Oh, Clyde, how can you treat me like this?”
But Clyde was so much interested in his own alibi, and how
to convince Roberta of the truth of it, that neither before nor
after slipping off his coat, muffler and gloves and smoothing
back his hair, did he look at her directly, or even tenderly, or
indeed do anything to demonstrate to her that he was truly
delighted to see her again. On the contrary, he was so
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fidgety and in part flustered that despite his past
professions and actions she could feel that apart from being
moderately glad to see her again he was more concerned
about himself and his own partially explained defection than
he was about her. And although after a few moments he
took her in his arms and pressed his lips to hers, still, as on
Saturday, she could feel that he was only partially united to
her in spirit. Other things—the affairs that had kept him
from her on Friday and to-night—were disturbing his
thoughts and hers.
She looked at him, not exactly believing and yet not entirely
wishing to disbelieve him. He might have been at the
Griffiths’, as he said, and they might have detained him.
And yet he might not have, either. For she could not help
recalling that on the previous Saturday he had said he had
been there Friday and the paper on the other hand had
stated that he was in Gloversville. But if she questioned him
in regard to these things now, would he not get angry and
lie to her still more? For after all she could not help thinking
that apart from his love for her she had no real claim on
him. But she could not possibly imagine that he could
change so quickly.
“So that was why you didn’t come to-night, was it?” she
asked, with more spirit and irritation than she had ever used
with him before. “I thought you told me sure you wouldn’t let
anything interfere,” she went on, a little heavily.
“Well, so I did,” he admitted. “And I wouldn’t have either,
except for the letter I got. You know I wouldn’t let any one
but my uncle interfere, but I couldn’t turn them down when
they asked me to come there on Christmas Day. It’s too
important. It wouldn’t look right, would it, especially when
you weren’t going to be here in the afternoon?”
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The manner and tone in which he said this conveyed to
Roberta more clearly than anything that he had ever said
before how significant he considered this connection with
his relatives to be and how unimportant anything she might
value in regard to this relationship was to him. It came to
her now that in spite of all his enthusiasm and
demonstrativeness in the first stages of this affair, possibly
she was much more trivial in his estimation than she had
seemed to herself. And that meant that her dreams and
sacrifices thus far had been in vain. She became frightened.
“Well, anyhow,” she went on dubiously in the face of this,
“don’t you think you might have left a note here, Clyde, so I
would have got it when I got in?” She asked this mildly, not