better. In case she was not, he must write to Ratterer at
once for advice.
In spite of his distress he was trying to appear as gay and
unconcerned as ever—dancing first with Perley Haynes and
then with Nadine and finally, while waiting for a chance to
dance with Sondra, he approached a group who were trying
to help Vanda Steele solve a new scenery puzzle and
asserted that he could read messages written on paper and
sealed in envelopes (the old serial letter trick which he had
found explained in an ancient book of parlor tricks
discovered on a shelf at the Peytons’). It had been his plan
to use it before in order to give himself an air of ease and
cleverness, but to-night he was using it to take his mind off
the greater problem that was weighing on him. And,
although with the aid of Nadine Harriet, whom he took into
his confidence, he succeeded in thoroughly mystifying the
others, still his mind was not quite on it. Roberta was
always there. Supposing something should really be wrong
with her and he could not get her out of it. She might even
expect him to marry her, so fearful was she of her parents
and people. What would he do then? He would lose the
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beautiful Sondra and she might even come to know how
and why he had lost her. But that would be wild of Roberta
to expect him to do that. He would not do it. He could not
do it.
One thing was certain. He must get her out of this. He
must! But how? How?
And although at twelve o’clock Sondra signaled that she
was ready to go and that if he chose he might accompany
her to her door (and even stop in for a few moments) and
although once there, in the shade of a pergola which
ornamented the front gate, she had allowed him to kiss her
and told him that she was beginning to think he was the
nicest ever and that the following spring when the family
moved to Twelfth Lake she was going to see if she couldn’t
think of some way by which she could arrange to have him
there over week-ends, still, because of this pressing
problem in connection with Roberta, Clyde was so worried
that he was not able to completely enjoy this new and to
him exquisitely thrilling demonstration of affection on her
part—this new and amazing social and emotional victory of
his.
He must send that letter to Ratterer to-night. But before that
he must return to Roberta as he had promised and find out
if she was better. And after that he must go over to
Schenectady in the morning, sure, to see the druggist over
there. For something must be done about this unless she
were better to-night.
And so, with Sondra’s kisses thrilling on his lips, he left her
to go to Roberta, whose white face and troubled eyes told
him as he entered her room that no change had taken
place. If anything she was worse and more distressed than
before, the larger dosage having weakened her to the point
of positive illness. However, as she said, nothing mattered
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if only she could get out of this—that she would almost be
willing to die rather than face the consequences. And
Clyde, realizing what she meant and being so sincerely
concerned for himself, appeared in part distressed for her.
However, his previous indifference and the manner in which
he had walked off and left her alone this very evening
prevented her from feeling that there was any abiding
concern in him for her now. And this grieved her terribly.
For she sensed now that he did not really care for her any
more, even though now he was saying that she mustn’t
worry and that it was likely that if these didn’t work he would
get something else that would; that he was going back to
the druggist at Schenectady the first thing in the morning to
see if there wasn’t something else that he could suggest.
But the Gilpins had no telephone, and since he never
ventured to call at her room during the day and he never
permitted her to call him at Mrs. Peyton’s, his plan in this
instance was to pass by the following morning before work.
If she were all right, the two front shades would be raised to
the top; if not, then lowered to the center. In that case he
would depart for Schenectady at once, telephoning Mr.
Liggett that he had some outside duties to perform.
Just the same, both were terribly depressed and fearful as
to what this should mean for each of them. Clyde could not
quite assure himself that, in the event that Roberta was not
extricated, he would be able to escape without indemnifying
her in some form which might not mean just temporary
efforts to aid her, but something more—marriage, possibly—
since already she had reminded him that he had promised
to see her through. But what had he really meant by that at
the time that he said it, he now asked himself. Not
marriage, most certainly, since his thought was not that he
had ever wanted to marry her, but rather just to play with
her happily in love, although, as he well knew, she had no
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such conception of his eager mood at that time. He was
compelled to admit to himself that she had probably thought
his intentions were more serious or she would not have
submitted to him at all.
But reaching home, and after writing and mailing the letter
to Ratterer, Clyde passed a troubled night. Next morning he
paid a visit to the druggist at Schenectady, the curtains of
Roberta’s windows having been lowered to the center when
he passed. But on this occasion the latter had no additional
aid to offer other than the advisability of a hot and hence
weakening bath, which he had failed to mention in the first
instance. Also some wearying form of physical exercise. But
noting Clyde’s troubled expression and judging that the
situation was causing him great worry, he observed: “Of
course, the fact that your wife has skipped a month doesn’t
mean that there is anything seriously wrong, you know.
Women do that sometimes. Anyhow, you can’t ever be sure
until the second month has passed. Any doctor will tell you
that. If she’s nervous, let her try something like this. But
even if it fails to work, you can’t be positive. She might be
all right next month just the same.”
Thinly cheered by this information, Clyde was about to
depart, for Roberta might be wrong. He and she might be
worrying needlessly. Still—he was brought up with a round
turn as he thought of it—there might be real danger, and
waiting until the end of the second period would only mean
that a whole month had elapsed and nothing helpful
accomplished—a freezing thought. In consequence he now
observed: “In case things don’t come right, you don’t
happen to know of a doctor she could go to, do you? This is
rather a serious business for both of us, and I’d like to get
her out of it if I could.”
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Something about the way in which Clyde said this—his
extreme nervousness as well as his willingness to indulge
in a form of malpractice which the pharmacist by some logic
all his own considered very different from just swallowing a
preparation intended to achieve the same result—caused
him to look suspiciously at Clyde, the thought stirring in his
brain that very likely after all Clyde was not married, also
that this was one of those youthful affairs which spelled
license and future difficulty for some unsophisticated girl.
Hence his mood now changed, and instead of being willing
to assist, he now said coolly: “Well, there may be a doctor
around here, but if so I don’t know. And I wouldn’t
undertake to send any one to a doctor like that. It’s against
the law. It would certainly go hard with any doctor around
here who was caught doing that sort of thing. That’s not to
say, though, that you aren’t at liberty to look around for
yourself, if you want to,” he added gravely, giving Clyde a
suspicious and examining glance, and deciding it were best
if he had nothing further to do with such a person.
Clyde therefore returned to Roberta with the same
prescription renewed, although she had most decidedly
protested that, since the first box had not worked, it was
useless to get more. But since he insisted, she was willing
to try the drug the new way, although the argument that a
cold or nerves was the possible cause was only sufficient to
convince her that Clyde was at the end of his resources in