I’m sure. And I am sorry about the other, really I am. I didn’t
mean, you know, that just because you weren’t Gilbert
Griffiths—”
He paused and in a bewildered manner stepped forward
and entering the car, slipped into the seat beside her. And
she, interested by his personality, at once began to look at
him, feeling glad that it was he now instead of Gilbert. In
order the better to see and again reveal her devastating
charms, as she saw them, to Clyde, she now switched on
the roof light. And the chauffeur returning, she asked Clyde
where he wished to go—an address which he gave
reluctantly enough, since it was so different from the street
in which she resided. As the car sped on, he was animated
by a feverish desire to make some use of this brief
occasion which might cause her to think favorably of him—
perhaps, who knows—lead to some faint desire on her part
to contact him again at some time or other. He was so truly
eager to be of her world.
“It’s certainly nice of you to take me up this way,” he now
turned to her and observed, smiling. “I didn’t think it was my
cousin you meant or I wouldn’t have come up as I did.”
“Oh, that’s all right. Don’t mention it,” replied Sondra archly
with a kind of sticky sweetness in her voice. Her original
impression of him as she now felt, had been by no means
so vivid. “It’s my mistake, not yours. But I’m glad I made it
now, anyhow,” she added most definitely and with an
engaging smile. “I think I’d rather pick you up than I would
Gil, anyhow. We don’t get along any too well, he and I. We
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quarrel a lot whenever we do meet anywhere.” She smiled,
having completely recovered from her momentary
embarrassment, and now leaned back after the best
princess fashion, her glance examining Clyde’s very regular
features with interest. He had such soft smiling eyes she
thought. And after all, as she now reasoned, he was Bella’s
and Gilbert’s cousin, and looked prosperous.
“Well, that’s too bad,” he said stiffly, and with a very
awkward and weak attempt at being self-confident and
even high-spirited in her presence.
“Oh, it doesn’t amount to anything, really. We just quarrel,
that’s all, once in a while.”
She saw that he was nervous and bashful and decidedly
unresourceful in her presence and it pleased her to think
that she could thus befuddle and embarrass him so much.
“Are you still working for your uncle?”
“Oh, yes,” replied Clyde quickly, as though it would make
an enormous difference to her if he were not. “I have
charge of a department over there now.”
“Oh, really, I didn’t know. I haven’t seen you at all, since
that one time, you know. You don’t get time to go about
much, I suppose.” She looked at him wisely, as much as to
say, “Your relatives aren’t so very much interested in you,”
but really liking him now, she said instead, “You have been
in the city all summer, I suppose?”
“Oh, yes,” replied Clyde quite simply and winningly. “I have
to be, you know. It’s the work that keeps me here. But I’ve
seen your name in the papers often, and read about your
riding and tennis contests and I saw you in that flower
parade last June, too. I certainly thought you looked
beautiful, like an angel almost.”
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There was an admiring, pleading light in his eyes which
now quite charmed her. What a pleasing young man—so
different to Gilbert. And to think he should be so plainly and
hopelessly smitten, and when she could take no more than
a passing interest in him. It made her feel sorry, a little, and
hence kindly toward him. Besides what would Gilbert think
if only he knew that his cousin was so completely reduced
by her—how angry he would be—he, who so plainly
thought her a snip? It would serve him just right if Clyde
were taken up by some one and made more of than he
(Gilbert) ever could hope to be. The thought had a most
pleasing tang for her.
However, at this point, unfortunately, the car turned in
before Mrs. Peyton’s door and stopped. The adventure for
Clyde and for her was seemingly over.
“That’s awfully nice of you to say that. I won’t forget that.”
She smiled archly as, the chauffeur opening the door, Clyde
stepped down, his own nerves taut because of the
grandeur and import of this encounter. “So this is where you
live. Do you expect to be in Lycurgus all winter?”
“Oh, yes. I’m quite sure of it. I hope to be anyhow,” he
added, quite yearningly, his eyes expressing his meaning
completely.
“Well, perhaps, then I’ll see you again somewhere, some
time. I hope so, anyhow.”
She nodded and gave him her fingers and the most
fetching and wreathy of smiles, and he, eager to the point
of folly, added: “Oh, so do I.”
“Good night! Good night!” she called as the car sprang
away, and Clyde, looking after it, wondered if he would ever
see her again so closely and intimately as here. To think
that he should have met her again in this way! And she had
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456
proved so very different from that first time when, as he
distinctly recalled, she took no interest in him at all.
He turned hopefully and a little wistfully toward his own door.
And Sondra, … why was it, she pondered, as the motor car
sped on its way, that the Griffiths were apparently not much
interested in him?
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457
Chapter 24
THE effect of this so casual contact was really disrupting in
more senses than one. For now in spite of his comfort in
and satisfaction with Roberta, once more and in this
positive and to him entrancing way, was posed the whole
question of his social possibilities here. And that strangely
enough by the one girl of this upper level who had most
materialized and magnified for him the meaning of that
upper level itself. The beautiful Sondra Finchley! Her lovely
face, smart clothes, gay and superior demeanor! If only at
the time he had first encountered her he had managed to
interest her. Or could now.
The fact that his relations with Roberta were what they were
now was not of sufficient import or weight to offset the
temperamental or imaginative pull of such a girl as Sondra
and all that she represented. Just to think the Wimblinger
Finchley Electric Sweeper Company was one of the largest
manufacturing concerns here. Its tall walls and stacks made
a part of the striking sky line across the Mohawk. And the
Finchley residence in Wykeagy Avenue, near that of the
Griffiths, was one of the most impressive among that
distinguished row of houses which had come with the latest
and most discriminating architectural taste here—Italian
Renaissance—cream hued marble and Dutchess County
sandstone combined. And the Finchleys were among the
most discussed of families here.
Ah, to know this perfect girl more intimately! To be looked
upon by her with favor,—made, by reason of that favor, a
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458
part of that fine world to which she belonged. Was he not a
Griffiths—as good looking as Gilbert Griffiths any day? And
as attractive if he only had as much money—or a part of it
even. To be able to dress in the Gilbert Griffiths’ fashion; to
ride around in one of the handsome cars he sported! Then,
you bet, a girl like this would be delighted to notice him,—
mayhap, who knows, even fall in love with him. Analschar
and the tray of glasses. But now, as he gloomily thought, he
could only hope, hope, hope.
The devil! He would not go around to Roberta’s this
evening. He would trump up some excuse—tell her in the
morning that he had been called upon by his uncle or
cousin to do some work. He could not and would not go,
feeling as he did just now.
So much for the effect of wealth, beauty, the peculiar social
state to which he most aspired, on a temperament that was
as fluid and unstable as water.
On the other hand, later, thinking over her contact with
Clyde, Sondra was definitely taken with what may only be
described as his charm for her, all the more definite in this
case since it represented a direct opposite to all that his
cousin offered by way of offense. His clothes and his
manner, as well as a remark he had dropped, to the effect
that he was connected with the company in some official
capacity, seemed to indicate that he might be better placed
than she had imagined. Yet she also recalled that although
she had been about with Bella all summer and had