that might come of it. What Gilbert would say if he did hear.
And so both he and she, as well as Grace, were dubious on
the instant about the wisdom of riding back together.
Grace’s own reputation, as well as the fact that she knew
Clyde was not interested in her, piqued her. And Roberta,
realizing this from her manner, said: “What do you think we
had better do, excuse ourselves?”
At once Roberta tried to think just how they could extricate
themselves gracefully without offending Clyde. Personally
she was so enchanted that had she been alone she would
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have preferred to have ridden back with him. But with
Grace here and in this cautious mood, never. She must
think up some excuse.
And at the same time, Clyde was wondering just how he
was to do now—ride in with them and brazenly face the
possibility of being seen by some one who might carry the
news to Gilbert Griffiths or evade doing so on some pretext
or other. He could think of none, however, and was about to
turn and accompany them to the car when the young
electrician, Shurlock, who lived in the Newton household
and who had been on the balcony of the pavilion, hailed
them. He was with a friend who had a small car, and they
were ready to return to the city.
“Well, here’s luck,” he exclaimed. “How are you, Miss
Alden? How do you do, Miss Marr? You two don’t happen
to be going our way, do you? If you are, we can take you in
with us.”
Not only Roberta but Clyde heard. And at once she was
about to say that, since it was a little late and she and
Grace were scheduled to attend church services with the
Newtons, it would be more convenient for them to return
this way. She was, however, half hoping that Shurlock
would invite Clyde and that he would accept. But on his
doing so, Clyde instantly refused. He explained that he had
decided to stay out a little while longer. And so Roberta left
him with a look that conveyed clearly enough the gratitude
and delight she felt. They had had such a good time. And
he in turn, in spite of many qualms as to the wisdom of all
this, fell to brooding on how sad it was that just he and
Roberta might not have remained here for hours longer.
And immediately after they had gone, he returned to the city
alone.
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The next morning he was keener than ever to see Roberta
again. And although the peculiarly exposed nature of the
work at the factory made it impossible for him to
demonstrate his feelings, still by the swift and admiring and
seeking smiles that played over his face and blazed in his
eyes, she knew that he was as enthusiastic, if not more so,
as on the night before. And on her part, although she felt
that a crisis of some sort was impending, and in spite of the
necessity of a form of secrecy which she resented, she
could not refrain from giving him a warm and quite yielding
glance in return. The wonder of his being interested in her!
The wonder and the thrill!
Clyde decided at once that his attentions were still
welcome. Also that he might risk saying something to her,
supposing that a suitable opportunity offered. And so, after
waiting an hour and seeing two fellow workers leave from
either side of her, he seized the occasion to drift near and
to pick up one of the collars she had just stamped, saying,
as though talking about that: “I was awfully sorry to have to
leave you last night. I wish we were out there again to-day
instead of here, just you and me, don’t you?”
Roberta turned, conscious that now was the time to decide
whether she would encourage or discourage any attention
on his part. At the same time she was almost faintingly
eager to accept his attentions regardless of the problem in
connection with them. His eyes! His hair! His hands! And
then instead of rebuking or chilling him in any way, she only
looked, but with eyes too weak and melting to mean
anything less than yielding and uncertainty. Clyde saw that
she was hopelessly and helplessly drawn to him, as indeed
he was to her. On the instant he was resolved to say
something more, when he could, as to where they could
meet when no one was along, for it was plain that she was
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no more anxious to be observed than he was. He well knew
more sharply to-day than ever before that he was treading
on dangerous ground.
He began to make mistakes in his calculations, to feel that,
with her so near him, he was by no means concentrating on
the various tasks before him. She was too enticing, too
compelling in so many ways to him. There was something
so warm and gay and welcome about her that he felt that if
he could persuade her to love him he would be among the
most fortunate of men. Yet there was that rule, and
although on the lake the day before he had been deciding
that his position here was by no means as satisfactory as it
should be, still with Roberta in it, as now it seemed she well
might be, would it not be much more delightful for him to
stay? Could he not, for the time being at least, endure the
further indifference of the Griffiths? And who knows, might
they not yet become interested in him as a suitable social
figure if only he did nothing to offend them? And yet here
he was attempting to do exactly the thing he had been
forbidden to do. What kind of an injunction was this,
anyhow, wherewith Gilbert had enjoined him? If he could
come to some understanding with her, perhaps she would
meet him in some clandestine way and thus obviate all
possibility of criticism.
It was thus that Clyde, seated at his desk or walking about,
was thinking. For now his mind, even in the face of his
duties, was almost entirely engaged by her, and he could
think of nothing else. He had decided to suggest that they
meet for the first time, if she would, in a small park which
was just west of the first outlying resort on the Mohawk. But
throughout the day, so close to each other did the girls
work, he had no opportunity to communicate with her.
Indeed noontime came and he went below to his lunch,
returning a little early in the hope of finding her sufficiently
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detached to permit him to whisper that he wished to see her
somewhere. But she was surrounded by others at the time
and so the entire afternoon went by without a single
opportunity.
However, as he was going out, he bethought him that if he
should chance to meet her alone somewhere in the street,
he would venture to speak to her. For she wanted him to—
that he knew, regardless of what she might say at any time.
And he must find some way that would appear as
accidental and hence as innocent to her as to others. But
as the whistle blew and she left the building she was joined
by another girl, and he was left to think of some other way.
That same evening, however, instead of lingering about the
Peyton house or going to a moving picture theater, as he so
often did now, or walking alone somewhere in order to allay
his unrest and loneliness, he chose now instead to seek out
the home of Roberta on Taylor Street. It was not a pleasing
house, as he now decided, not nearly so attractive as Mrs.
Cuppy’s or the house in which he now dwelt. It was too old
and brown, the neighborhood too nondescript, if
conservative. But the lights in different rooms glowing at
this early hour gave it a friendly and genial look. And the
few trees in front were pleasant. What was Roberta doing
now? Why couldn’t she have waited for him in the factory?
Why couldn’t she sense now that he was outside and come
out? He wished intensely that in some way he could make
her feel that he was out here, and so cause her to come
out. But she didn’t. On the contrary, he observed Mr.
Shurlock issue forth and disappear toward Central Avenue.
And, after that, pedestrian after pedestrian making their
way out of different houses along the street and toward
Central, which caused him to walk briskly about the block in
order to avoid being seen. At the same time he sighed
often, because it was such a fine night—a full moon rising
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