hesitated to even trifle with them. They were illegal,
dangerous, involved little or no pay as a rule, and the
sentiment of this local world was all against them as he
knew. Besides he personally was more or less irritated by
these young scamps of boys and girls who were so free to
exercise the normal functions of their natures in the first
instance, but so ready to refuse the social obligations which
went with them—marriage afterwards. And so, although in
several cases in the past ten years where family and other
neighborhood and religious considerations had made it
seem quite advisable, he had assisted in extricating from
the consequences of their folly several young girls of good
family who had fallen from grace and could not otherwise
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be rescued, still he was opposed to aiding, either by his
own countenance or skill, any lapses or tangles not heavily
sponsored by others. It was too dangerous. Ordinarily it was
his custom to advise immediate and unconditional
marriage. Or, where that was not possible, the perpetrator
of the infamy having decamped, it was his general and self-
consciously sanctioned practice to have nothing at all to do
with the matter. It was too dangerous and ethically and
socially wrong and criminal into the bargain.
In consequence he now looked at Roberta in an extremely
sober manner. By no means, he now said to himself, must
he allow himself to become emotionally or otherwise
involved here. And so in order to help himself as well as her
to attain and maintain a balance which would permit of both
extricating themselves without too much trouble, he drew
toward him his black leather case record book and, opening
it, said: “Now, let’s see if we can’t find out what the trouble
is here. What is your name?”
“Ruth Howard. Mrs. Howard,” replied Roberta nervously
and tensely, at once fixing upon a name which Clyde had
suggested for her use. And now, interestingly enough, at
mention of the fact that she was married, he breathed
easier. But why the tears then? What reason could a young
married woman have for being so intensely shy and
nervous?
“And your husband’s first name?” he went on.
As simple as the question was, and as easy as it should
have been to answer, Roberta nevertheless hesitated
before she could bring herself to say: “Gifford,” her older
brother’s name.
“You live around her, I presume?”
“In Fonda.”
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593
“Yes. And how old are you?”
“Twenty-two.”
“How long have you been married?”
This inquiry being so intimately connected with the problem
before her, she again hesitated before saying, “Let me see
—three months.”
At once Dr. Glenn became dubious again, though he gave
her no sign. Her hesitancy arrested him. Why the
uncertainty? He was wondering now again whether he was
dealing with a truthful girl or whether his first suspicions
were being substantiated. In consequence he now asked:
“Well, now what seems to be the trouble, Mrs. Howard?
You need have no hesitancy in telling me—none
whatsoever. I am used to such things year in and out,
whatever they are. That is my business, listening to the
troubles of people.”
“Well,” began Roberta, nervously once more, this terrible
confession drying her throat and thickening her tongue
almost, while once more she turned the same button of her
coat and gazed at the floor. “It’s like this … You see … my
husband hasn’t much money … and I have to work to help
out with expenses and neither of us make so very
much.” (She was astonishing herself with her own shameful
power to lie in this instance—she, who had always hated to
lie.) “So … of course … we can’t afford to … to have …
well, any … children, you see, so soon, anyhow, and …”
She paused, her breath catching, and really unable to
proceed further with this wholesale lying.
The doctor realizing from this, as he thought, what the true
problem was—that she was a newly-married girl who was
probably faced by just such a problem as she was
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594
attempting to outline—yet not wishing to enter upon any
form of malpractice and at the same time not wishing to
appear too discouraging to a young couple just starting out
in life, gazed at her somewhat more sympathetically, the
decidedly unfortunate predicament of these young people,
as well as her appropriate modesty in the face of such a
conventionally delicate situation, appealing to him. It was
too bad. Young people these days did have a rather hard
time of it, getting started in some cases, anyhow. And they
were no doubt faced by some pressing financial situations.
Nearly all young people were. Nevertheless, this business
of a contraceptal operation or interference with the normal
or God-arranged life processes, well, that was a ticklish and
unnatural business at best which he wanted as little as
possible to do with. Besides, young, healthy people, even
though poor, when they undertook marriage, knew what
they were about. And it was not impossible for them to
work, the husband anyhow, and hence manage in some
way.
And now straightening himself around in his chair very
soberly and authoritatively, he began: “I think I understand
what you want to say to me, Mrs. Howard. But I’m also
wondering if you have considered what a very serious and
dangerous thing it is you have in mind. But,” he added,
suddenly, another thought as to whether his own reputation
in this community was in any way being tarnished by rumor
of anything he had done in the past coming to him, “just
how did you happen to come to me, anyhow?”
Something about the tone of his voice, the manner in which
he asked the question—the caution of it as well as the
possibly impending resentment in case it should turn out
that any one suspected him of a practice of this sort—
caused Roberta to hesitate and to feel that any statement
to the effect that she had heard of or been sent by any one
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595
else—Clyde to the contrary notwithstanding—might be
dangerous. Perhaps she had better not say that she had
been sent by any one. He might resent it as an insult to his
character as a reputable physician. A budding instinct for
diplomacy helped her in this instance, and she replied: “I’ve
noticed your sign in passing several times and I’ve heard
different people say you were a good doctor.”
His uncertainty allayed, he now continued: “In the first
place, the thing you want done is something my conscience
would not permit me to advise. I understand, of course, that
you consider it necessary. You and your husband are both
young and you probably haven’t very much money to go on,
and you both feel that an interruption of this kind will be a
great strain in every way. And no doubt it will be. Still, as I
see it, marriage is a very sacred thing, and children are a
blessing—not a curse. And when you went to the altar three
months ago you were probably not unaware that you might
have to face just such a situation as this. All young married
people are, I think.” (“The altar,” thought Roberta sadly. If
only it were so.) “Now I know that the tendency of the day in
some quarters is very much in this direction, I am sorry to
say. There are those who feel it quite all right if they can
shirk the normal responsibilities in such cases as to perform
these operations, but it’s very dangerous, Mrs. Howard,
very dangerous legally and ethically as well as medically
very wrong. Many women who seek to escape childbirth die
in this way. Besides it is a prison offense for any doctor to
assist them, whether there are bad consequences or not.
You know that, I suppose. At any rate, I, for one, am
heartily opposed to this sort of thing from every point of
view. The only excuse I have ever been able to see for it is
when the life of the mother, for instance, depends upon
such an operation. Not otherwise. And in such cases the
medical profession is in accord. But in this instance I’m sure
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596
the situation isn’t one which warrants anything like that. You
seem to me to be a strong, healthy girl. Motherhood should
hold no serious consequences for you. And as for money
reasons, don’t you really think now that if you just go ahead
and have this baby, you and your husband would find
means of getting along? You say your husband is an
electrician?”
“Yes,” replied Roberta, nervously, not a little overawed and
subdued by his solemn moralizing.
“Well, now, there you are,” he went on. “That’s not such an
unprofitable profession. At least all electricians charge
enough. And when you consider, as you must, how serious