An American Tragedy by Theodore Dreiser

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