An American Tragedy by Theodore Dreiser

Hortense, who was with Gettler, and hating his rival

because of this; but still attempting to be civil to Louise and

Greta, who bestowed sufficient attention on him to make

him feel at ease. Ratterer, having noticed his extreme

preference and being alone with him for a moment, said:

“You better not get too stuck on that Hortense Briggs. I

don’t think she’s on the level with anybody. She’s got that

fellow Gettler and others. She’ll only work you an’ you might

not get anything, either.”

But Clyde, in spite of this honest and well-meant caution,

was not to be dissuaded. On sight, and because of the

witchery of a smile, the magic and vigor of motion and

youth, he was completely infatuated and would have given

or done anything for an additional smile or glance or hand

pressure. And that despite the fact that he was dealing with

a girl who no more knew her own mind than a moth, and

who was just reaching the stage where she was finding it

convenient and profitable to use boys of her own years or a

little older for whatever pleasures or clothes she desired.

The party proved nothing more than one of those ebullitions

of the youthful mating period. The house of Kittie Keane

was little more than a cottage in a poor street under bare

December trees. But to Clyde, because of the passion for a

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pretty face that was suddenly lit in him, it had the color and

the form and gayety of romance itself. And the young girls

and boys that he met there—girls and boys of the Ratterer,

Hegglund, Hortense stripe—were still of the very substance

and texture of that energy, ease and forwardness which he

would have given his soul to possess. And curiously

enough, in spite of a certain nervousness on his part, he

was by reason of his new companions made an integral

part of the gayeties.

And on this occasion he was destined to view a type of girl

and youth in action such as previously it had not been his

fortune or misfortune, as you will, to see. There was, for

instance, a type of sensual dancing which Louise and

Hortense and Greta indulged in with the greatest

nonchalance and assurance. At the same time, many of

these youths carried whisky in a hip flask, from which they

not only drank themselves, but gave others to drink—boys

and girls indiscriminately.

And the general hilarity for this reason being not a little

added to, they fell into more intimate relations—spooning

with one and another—Hortense and Louise and Greta

included. Also to quarreling at times. And it appeared to be

nothing out of the ordinary, as Clyde saw, for one youth or

another to embrace a girl behind a door, to hold her on his

lap in a chair in some secluded corner, to lie with her on a

sofa, whispering intimate and unquestionably welcome

things to her. And although at no time did he espy Hortense

doing this—still, as he saw, she did not hesitate to sit on the

laps of various boys or to whisper with rivals behind doors.

And this for a time so discouraged and at the same time

incensed him that he felt he could not and would not have

anything more to do with her—she was too cheap, vulgar,

inconsiderate.

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At the same time, having partaken of the various drinks

offered him—so as not to seem less worldly wise than the

others—until brought to a state of courage and daring not

ordinarily characteristic of him, he ventured to half plead

with and at the same time half reproach her for her too lax

conduct.

“You’re a flirt, you are. You don’t care who you jolly, do

you?” This as they were dancing together after one o’clock

to the music of a youth named Wilkens, at the none too

toneful piano. She was attempting to show him a new step

in a genial and yet coquettish way, and with an amused,

sensuous look.

“What do you mean, flirt? I don’t get you.”

“Oh, don’t you?” replied Clyde, a little crossly and still

attempting to conceal his real mood by a deceptive smile.

“I’ve heard about you. You jolly ’em all.”

“Oh, do I?” she replied quite irritably. “Well, I haven’t tried to

jolly you very much, have I?”

“Well, now, don’t get mad,” he half pleaded and half

scolded, fearing, perhaps, that he had ventured too far and

might lose her entirely now. “I don’t mean anything by it.

You don’t deny that you let a lot of these fellows make love

to you. They seem to like you, anyway.”

“Oh, well, of course they like me, I guess. I can’t help that,

can I?”

“Well, I’ll tell you one thing,” he blurted boastfully and

passionately. “I could spend a lot more on you than they

could. I got it.” He had been thinking only the moment

before of fifty-five dollars in bills that snuggled comfortably

in his pocket.

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“Oh, I don’t know,” she retorted, not a little intrigued by this

cash offer, as it were, and at the same time not a little set

up in her mood by the fact that she could thus inflame

nearly all youths in this way. She was really a little silly, very

lightheaded, who was infatuated by her own charms and

looked in every mirror, admiring her eyes, her hair, her

neck, her hands, her figure, and practising a peculiarly

fetching smile.

At the same time, she was not unaffected by the fact that

Clyde was not a little attractive to look upon, although so

very green. She liked to tease such beginners. He was a bit

of a fool, as she saw him. But he was connected with the

Green-Davidson, and he was well-dressed, and no doubt

he had all the money he said and would spend it on her.

Some of those whom she liked best did not have much

money to spend.

“Lots of fellows with money would like to spend it on me.”

She tossed her head and flicked her eyes and repeated her

coyest smile.

At once Clyde’s countenance darkened. The witchery of her

look was too much for him. The skin of his forehead

crinkled and then smoothed out. His eyes burned lustfully

and bitterly, his old resentment of life and deprivation

showing. No doubt all she said was true. There were others

who had more and would spend more. He was boasting

and being ridiculous and she was laughing at him.

After a moment, he added, weakly, “I guess that’s right, too.

But they couldn’t want you more than I do.”

The uncalculated honesty of it flattered her not a little. He

wasn’t so bad after all. They were gracefully gliding about

as the music continued.

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“Oh, well, I don’t flirt everywhere like I do here. These

fellows and girls all know each other. We’re always going

around together. You mustn’t mind what you see here.”

She was lying artfully, but it was soothing to him none the

less. “Gee, I’d give anything if you’d only be nice to me,” he

pleaded, desperately and yet ecstatically. “I never saw a girl

I’d rather have than you. You’re swell. I’m crazy about you.

Why won’t you come out to dinner with me and let me take

you to a show afterwards? Don’t you want to do that,

tomorrow night or Sunday? Those are my two nights off. I

work other nights.”

She hesitated at first, for even now she was not so sure

that she wished to continue this contact. There was Gettler,

to say nothing of several others, all jealous and attentive.

Even though he spent money on her, she might not wish to

bother with him. He was already too eager and he might

become troublesome. At the same time, the natural

coquetry of her nature would not permit her to relinquish

him. He might fall into the hands of Greta or Louise. In

consequence she finally arranged a meeting for the

following Tuesday. But he could not come to the house, or

take her home to-night—on account of her escort, Mr.

Gettler. But on the following Tuesday, at six-thirty, near the

Green-Davidson. And he assured her that they would dine

first at Frissell’s, and then see “The Corsair,” a musical

comedy at Libby’s, only two blocks away.

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Chapter 12

NOW trivial as this contact may seem to some, it was of the

utmost significance to Clyde. Up to this time he had never

seen a girl with so much charm who would deign to look at

him, or so he imagined. And now he had found one, and

she was pretty and actually interested sufficiently to

accompany him to dinner and to a show. It was true,

perhaps, that she was a flirt, and not really sincere with any