An American Tragedy by Theodore Dreiser

549

At five-thirty, he made his way to the appointed place,

wondering what it could be that could make her so pale and

concerned. Yet at the same time saying to himself that if

this other dream in regard to Sondra were to come true he

must not let himself be reëntangled by any great or moving

sympathy—must maintain his new poise and distance so

that Roberta could see that he no longer cared for her as he

had. Reaching the appointed place at six o’clock, he found

her leaning disconsolately against a tree in the shadow.

She looked distraught, despondent.

“Why, what’s the matter, Bert? What are you so frightened

about? What’s happened?”

Even his obviously dwindling affection was restimulated by

her quite visible need of help.

“Oh, Clyde,” she said at last, “I hardly know how to tell you.

It’s so terrible for me if it’s so.” Her voice, tense and yet low,

was in itself a clear proof of her anguish and uncertainty.

“Why, what is it, Bert? Why don’t you tell me?” he

reiterated, briskly and yet cautiously, essaying an air of

detached assurance which he could not quite manage in

this instance. “What’s wrong? What are you so excited

about? You’re all trembly.”

Because of the fact that never before in all his life had he

been confronted by any such predicament as this, it did not

even now occur to him just what the true difficulty could be.

At the same time, being rather estranged and hence

embarrassed by his recent treatment of her, he was

puzzled as to just what attitude to assume in a situation

where obviously something was wrong. Being sensitive to

conventional or moral stimuli as he still was, he could not

quite achieve a discreditable thing, even where his own

highest ambitions were involved, without a measure of

An American Tragedy

550

regret or at least shame. Also he was so anxious to keep

his dinner engagement and not to be further involved that

his manner was impatient. It did not escape Roberta.

“You know, Clyde,” she pleaded, both earnestly and

eagerly, the very difficulty of her state encouraging her to be

bold and demanding, “you said if anything went wrong

you’d help me.”

At once, because of those recent few and, as he now saw

them, foolish visits to her room, on which occasions

because of some remaining sentiment and desire on the

part of both he had been betrayed into sporadic and

decidedly unwise physical relations with her, he now

realized what the difficulty was. And that it was a severe,

compelling, dangerous difficulty, if it were true. Also that he

was to blame and that here was a real predicament that

must be overcome, and that quickly, unless a still greater

danger was to be faced. Yet, simultaneously, his very

recent and yet decidedly compelling indifference dictating,

he was almost ready now to assume that this might be little

more than a ruse or lovelorn device or bit of strategy

intended to retain or reënlist his interest in spite of himself—

a thought which he was only in part ready to harbor. Her

manner was too dejected and despairing. And with the first

dim realization of how disastrous such a complication as

this might prove to be in his case, he began to be

somewhat more alarmed than irritated. So much so that he

exclaimed:

“Yes, but how do you know that there is anything wrong?

You can’t be sure so soon as all this, can you? How can

you? You’ll probably be all right to-morrow, won’t you?” At

the same time his voice was beginning to suggest the

uncertainty that he felt.

An American Tragedy

551

“Oh, no, I don’t think so, Clyde. I wish I did. It’s two whole

days, and it’s never been that way before.”

Her manner as she said this was so obviously dejected and

self-commiserating that at once he was compelled to

dismiss the thought of intrigue. At the same time, unwilling

to face so discouraging a fact so soon, he added: “Oh, well,

that might not mean anything, either. Girls go longer than

two days, don’t they?”

The tone, implying as it did uncertainty and non-

sophistication even, which previously had not appeared

characteristic of him, was sufficient to alarm Roberta to the

point where she exclaimed: “Oh, no, I don’t think so.

Anyhow, it would be terrible, wouldn’t it, if something were

wrong? What do you suppose I ought to do? Don’t you

know something I can take?”

At once Clyde, who had been so brisk and urgent in

establishing this relationship and had given Roberta the

impression that he was a sophisticated and masterful youth

who knew much more of life than ever she could hope to

know, and to whom all such dangers and difficulties as

were implied in the relationship could be left with impunity,

was at a loss what to do. Actually, as he himself now

realized, he was as sparingly informed in regard to the

mysteries of sex and the possible complications attending

upon such a situation as any youth of his years could well

be. True, before coming here he had browsed about

Kansas City and Chicago with such worldly-wise mentors of

the hotel bell-boy world as Ratterer, Higby, Hegglund and

others and had listened to much of their gossiping and

boasting. But their knowledge, for all their boasting, as he

now half guessed, must have related to girls who were as

careless and uninformed as themselves. And beyond those

again, although he was by no means so clearly aware of

An American Tragedy

552

that fact now, lay little more than those rumored specifics

and preventatives of such quack doctors and shady

druggists and chemists as dealt with intelligences of the

Hegglund and Ratterer order. But even so, where were

such things to be obtained in a small city like Lycurgus?

Since dropping Dillard he had no intimates let alone

trustworthy friends who could be depended on to help in

such a crisis.

The best he could think of for the moment was to visit some

local or near-by druggist who might, for a price, provide him

with some worth-while prescription or information. But for

how much? And what were the dangers in connection with

such a proceeding? Did they talk? Did they ask questions?

Did they tell any one else about such inquiries or needs?

He looked so much like Gilbert Griffiths, who was so well

known in Lycurgus that any one recognizing him as Gilbert

might begin to talk of him in that way and so bring about

trouble.

And this terrible situation arising now—when in connection

with Sondra, things had advanced to the point where she

was now secretly permitting him to kiss her, and, more

pleasing still, exhibiting little evidences of her affection and

good will in the form of presents of ties, a gold pencil, a box

of most attractive handkerchiefs, all delivered to his door in

his absence with a little card with her initials, which had

caused him to feel sure that his future in connection with

her was of greater and greater promise. So much so that

even marriage, assuming that her family might not prove

too inimical and that her infatuation and diplomacy endured,

might not be beyond the bounds of possibility. He could not

be sure, of course. Her true intentions and affections so far

were veiled behind a tantalizing evasiveness which made

her all the more desirable. Yet it was these things that had

been causing him to feel that he must now, and speedily,

An American Tragedy

553

extract himself as gracefully and unirritatingly as possible

from his intimacy with Roberta.

For that reason, therefore, he now announced, with

pretended assurance: “Well, I wouldn’t worry about it any

more to-night if I were you. You may be all right yet, you

know. You can’t be sure. Anyhow, I’ll have to have a little

time until I can see what I can do. I think I can get

something for you. But I wish you wouldn’t get so excited.”

At the same time he was far from feeling as secure as he

sounded. In fact he was very much shaken. His original

determination to have as little to do with her as possible,

was now complicated by the fact that he was confronted by

a predicament that spelled real danger to himself, unless by

some argument or assertion he could absolve himself of

any responsibility in connection with this—a possibility

which, in view of the fact that Roberta still worked for him,

that he had written her some notes, and that any least word

from her would precipitate an inquiry which would prove

fatal to him, was sufficient to cause him to feel that he must

assist her speedily and without a breath of information as to

all this leaking out in any direction. At the same time it is

only fair to say that because of all that had been between