An American Tragedy by Theodore Dreiser

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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“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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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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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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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