An American Tragedy by Theodore Dreiser

which had been derived from the Green-Davidson or the

Union League, was still not so involved with family miseries

in the one place or personal loneliness in the other. And he

had Roberta secretly devoted to him. And the Griffiths,

thank goodness, did not and should not know anything of

that, though just how in case of a difficulty it was to be

avoided, he was not even troubling to think. His was a

disposition which did not tend to load itself with more than

the most immediate cares.

And although the Griffiths and their friends had not chosen

to recognize him socially, still more and more all others who

were not connected with local society and who knew of him,

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did. Only this very day, because the spring before he had

been made a room-chief, perhaps, and Samuel Griffiths

had recently paused and talked with him, no less an

important personage than Mr. Rudolph Smillie, one of the

several active vice-presidents, had asked him most

cordially and casually whether he played golf, and if so,

when spring came again, whether he might not be

interested to join the Amoskeag, one of the two really

important golf clubs within a half dozen miles of the city.

Now, what could that mean, if not that Mr. Smillie was

beginning to see him as a social possibility, and that he as

well as many others about the factory, were becoming

aware of him as some one who was of some importance to

the Griffiths, if not the factory.

This thought, together with one other—that once more after

dinner he was to see Roberta and in her room as early as

eleven o’clock or even earlier—cheered him and caused

him to step along most briskly and gayly. For, since having

indulged in this secret adventure so many times, both were

unconsciously becoming bolder. Not having been detected

to date, they were of the notion that it was possible they

might not be. Or if they were Clyde might be introduced as

her brother or cousin for the moment, anyhow, in order to

avoid immediate scandal. Later, to avoid danger of

comment or subsequent detection, as both had agreed

after some discussion, Roberta might have to move to

some other place where the same routine was to be

repeated. But that would be easy, or at least better than no

freedom of contact. And with that Roberta had been

compelled to agree.

However, on this occasion there came a contact and an

interruption which set his thoughts careening in an entirely

different direction. Reaching the first of the more important

houses of Wykeagy Avenue, although he had not the

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slightest idea who lived there, he was gazing interestedly at

the high wrought-iron fence, as well as the kempt lawn

within, dimly illuminated by street lamps, and upon the

surface of which he could detect many heaps of freshly

fallen brown leaves being shaken and rolled by a

winnowing and gamboling wind. It was all so starkly severe,

placid, reserved, beautiful, as he saw it, that he was quite

stirred by the dignity and richness of it. And as he neared

the central gate, above which two lights were burning,

making a circle of light about it, a closed car of great size

and solidity stopped directly in front of it. And the chauffeur

stepping down and opening the door, Clyde instantly

recognized Sondra Finchley leaning forward in the car.

“Go around to the side entrance, David, and tell Miriam that

I can’t wait for her because I’m going over to the Trumbulls

for dinner, but that I’ll be back, by nine. If she’s not there,

leave this note and hurry, will you?” The voice and manner

were of that imperious and yet pleasing mode which had so

intrigued him the spring before.

At the same time seeing, as she thought, Gilbert Griffiths

approaching along the sidewalk, she called, “Oh, hello.

Walking to-night? If you want to wait a minute, you can ride

out with me. I’ve just sent David in with a note. He won’t be

long.”

Now Sondra Finchley, despite the fact that she was

interested in Bella and the Griffiths’ wealth and prestige in

general was by no means as well pleased with Gilbert. He

had been indifferent to her in the beginning when she had

tried to cultivate him and he had remained so. He had

wounded her pride. And to her, who was overflowing with

vanity and self-conceit, this was the last offense, and she

could not forgive him. She could not and would not brook

the slightest trace of ego in another, and most especially

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451

the vain, cold, self-centered person of Bella’s brother. He

had too fine an opinion of himself, as she saw it, was one

who was too bursting with vanity to be of service to anyone.

“Hmp! That stick.” It was so that she invariably thought of

him. “Who does he think he is anyhow? He certainly does

think he’s a lot around here. You’d think he was a

Rockefeller or a Morgan. And for my part I can’t see where

he’s a bit interesting—any more. I like Bella. I think she’s

lovely. But that smarty. I guess he would like to have a girl

wait on him. Well, not for me.” Such in the main were the

comments made by Sondra upon such reported acts and

words of Gilbert as were brought to her by others.

And for his part, Gilbert, hearing of the gyrations, airs, and

aspirations of Sondra from Bella from time to time, was

accustomed to remark: “What, that little snip! Who does

she think she is anyhow? If ever there was a conceited little

nut!…”

However, so tightly were the social lines of Lycurgus drawn,

so few the truly eligibles, that it was almost necessary and

compulsory upon those “in” to make the best of such others

as were “in.” And so it was that she now greeted Gilbert as

she thought. And as she moved over slightly from the door

to make room for him, Clyde almost petrified by this

unexpected recognition, and quite shaken out of his pose

and self-contemplation, not being sure whether he had

heard aright, now approached, his manner the epitome

almost of a self-ingratiating and somewhat affectionate and

wistful dog of high breeding and fine temperament.

“Oh, good evening,” he exclaimed, removing his cap and

bowing. “How are you?” while his mind was registering that

this truly was the beautiful, the exquisite Sondra whom

months before he had met at his uncle’s, and concerning

whose social activities during the preceding summer he had

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452

been reading in the papers. And now here she was as

lovely as ever, seated in this beautiful car and addressing

him, apparently. However, Sondra on the instant realizing

that she had made a mistake and that it was not Gilbert,

was quite embarrassed and uncertain for the moment just

how to extricate herself from a situation which was a bit

ticklish, to say the least.

“Oh, pardon me, you’re Mr. Clyde Griffiths, I see now. It’s

my mistake. I thought you were Gilbert. I couldn’t quite

make you out in the light.” She had for the moment an

embarrassed and fidgety and halting manner, which Clyde

noticed and which he saw implied that she had made a

mistake that was not entirely flattering to him nor

satisfactory to her. And this in turn caused him to become

confused and anxious to retire.

“Oh, pardon me. But that’s all right. I didn’t mean to intrude.

I thought …” He flushed and stepped back really troubled.

But now Sondra, seeing at once that Clyde was if anything

much more attractive than his cousin and far more diffident,

and obviously greatly impressed by her charms as well as

her social state, unbent sufficiently to say with a charming

smile: “But that’s all right. Won’t you get in, please, and let

me take you where you are going. Oh, I wish you would. I

will be so glad to take you.”

For there was that in Clyde’s manner the instant he learned

that it was due to a mistake that he had been recognized

which caused even her to understand that he was hurt,

abashed and disappointed. His eyes took on a hurt look

and there was a wavering, apologetic, sorrowful smile

playing about his lips.

“Why, yes, of course,” he said jerkily, “that is, if you want

me to. I understand how it was. That’s all right. But you

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needn’t mind, if you don’t wish to. I thought …” He had half

turned to go, but was so drawn by her that he could

scarcely tear himself away before she repeated: “Oh, do

come, get in, Mr. Griffiths. I’ll be so glad if you will. It won’t

take David a moment to take you wherever you are going,