An American Tragedy by Theodore Dreiser

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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565

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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567

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