An American Tragedy by Theodore Dreiser

encounter with Sondra, was surprised by the sight of a

cream-colored note leaning against the mirror of his

dresser. It was addressed in a large, scrawly and unfamiliar

hand. He picked it up and turned it over without being able

in any way to fix upon the source. On the back were the

initials B. T. or J. T., he could not decide which, so

elaborately intertwined was the engraved penmanship. He

tore it open and drew out a card which read:

The Now and Then Club Will Hold Its First Winter Dinner Dance At the

On the back of this, though, in the same scrawly hand that

graced the envelope was written: “Dear Mr. Griffiths:

Thought you might like to come. It will be quite informal.

And I’m sure you’ll like it. If so, will you let Jill Trumbull

know? Sondra Finchley.”

Quite amazed and thrilled, Clyde stood and stared. For ever

since that second contact with her, he had been more

definitely fascinated than at any time before by the dream

that somehow, in some way, he was to be lifted from the

lowly state in which he now dwelt. He was, as he now saw

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it, really too good for the commonplace world by which he

was environed. And now here was this—a social invitation

issued by the “Nowand Then Club,” of which, even though

he had never heard of it, must be something, since it was

sponsored by such exceptional people. And on the back of

it, was there not the writing of Sondra herself? How

marvelous, really!

So astonished was he that he could scarcely contain

himself for joy, but now on the instant must walk to and fro,

looking at himself in the mirror, washing his hands and

face, then deciding that his tie was not just right, perhaps,

and changing to another—thinking forward to what he

should wear and back upon how Sondra had looked at him

on that last occasion. And how she had smiled. At the same

time he could not help wondering even at this moment of

what Roberta would think, if now, by some extra optical

power of observation she could note his present joy in

connection with this note. For plainly, and because he was

no longer governed by the conventional notions of his

parents, he had been allowing himself to drift into a position

in regard to her which would certainly spell torture to her in

case she should discover the nature of his present mood, a

thought which puzzled him not a little, but did not serve to

modify his thoughts in regard to Sondra in the least.

That wonderful girl!

That beauty!

That world of wealth and social position she lived in!

At the same time so innately pagan and unconventional

were his thoughts in regard to all this that he could now ask

himself, and that seriously enough, why should he not be

allowed to direct his thoughts toward her and away from

Roberta, since at the moment Sondra supplied the keener

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thought of delight. Roberta could not know about this. She

could not see into his mind, could she—become aware of

any such extra experience as this unless he told her. And

most assuredly he did not intend to tell her. And what harm,

he now asked himself, was there in a poor youth like

himself aspiring to such heights? Other youths as poor as

himself had married girls as rich as Sondra.

For in spite of all that had occurred between him and

Roberta he had not, as he now clearly recalled, given her

his word that he would marry her except under one

condition. And such a condition, especially with the

knowledge that he had all too clearly acquired in Kansas

City, was not likely to happen as he thought.

And Sondra, now that she had thus suddenly burst upon

him again in this way was the same as a fever to his fancy.

This goddess in her shrine of gilt and tinsel so utterly

enticing to him, had deigned to remember him in this open

and direct way and to suggest that he be invited. And no

doubt she, herself, was going to be there, a thought which

thrilled him beyond measure.

And what would not Gilbert and the Griffiths think if they

were to hear of his going to this affair now, as they surely

would? Or meet him later at some other party to which

Sondra might invite him? Think of that! Would it irritate or

please them? Make them think less or more of him? For,

after all, this certainly was not of his doing. Was he not

properly invited by people of their own station here in

Lycurgus whom most certainly they were compelled to

respect? And by no device of his, either—sheer accident—

the facts concerning which would most certainly not reflect

on him as pushing. As lacking as he was in some of the

finer shades of mental discrimination, a sly and ironic

pleasure lay in the thought that now Gilbert and the Griffiths

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might be compelled to countenance him whether they

would or not—invite him to their home, even. For, if these

others did, how could they avoid it, really? Oh, joy! And that

in the face of Gilbert’s high contempt for him. He fairly

chuckled as he thought of it, feeling that however much

Gilbert might resent it, neither his uncle nor Myra were likely

to, and that hence he would be fairly safe from any secret

desire on the part of Gilbert to revenge himself on him for

this.

But how wonderful this invitation! Why that intriguing

scribble of Sondra’s unless she was interested in him

some? Why? The thought was so thrilling that Clyde could

scarcely eat his dinner that night. He took up the card and

kissed the handwriting. And instead of going to see Roberta

as usual, he decided as before on first reëncountering her,

to walk a bit, then return to his room, and retire early. And

on the morrow as before he could make some excuse—say

that he had been over to the Griffiths’ home, or some one

of the heads of the factory, in order to listen to an

explanation in regard to something in connection with the

work, since there were often such conferences. For, in the

face of this, he did not care to see or talk to Roberta this

night. He could not. The other thought—that of Sondra and

her interest in him—was too enticing.

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Chapter 25

BUT in the interim, in connection with his relations with

Roberta no least reference to Sondra, although, even when

near her in the factory or her room, he could not keep his

thoughts from wandering away to where Sondra in her

imaginary high social world might be. The while Roberta, at

moments only sensing a drift and remoteness in his thought

and attitude which had nothing to do with her, was

wondering what it was that of late was beginning to occupy

him so completely. And he, in his turn, when she was not

looking was thinking—supposing?—supposing—(since she

had troubled to recall herself to him), that he could interest

a girl like Sondra in him? What then of Roberta? What?

And in the face of this intimate relation that had now been

established between them? (Goodness! The deuce!) And

that he did care for her (yes, he did), although now—

basking in the direct rays of this newer luminary—he could

scarcely see Roberta any longer, so strong were the actinic

rays of this other. Was he all wrong? Was it evil to be like

this? His mother would say so! And his father too—and

perhaps everybody who thought right about life—Sondra

Finchley, maybe—the Griffiths—all.

And yet! And yet! It was snowing the first light snow of the

year as Clyde, arrayed in a new collapsible silk hat and

white silk muffler, both suggested by a friendly ‘haberdasher

—Orrin Short, with whom recently he had come in contact

here—and a new silk umbrella wherewith to protect himself

from the snow, made his way toward the very interesting, if

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not so very imposing residence of the Trumbulls on

Wykeagy Avenue. It was quaint, low and rambling, and the

lights beaming from within upon the many drawn blinds

gave it a Christmas-card effect. And before it, even at the

prompt hour at which he arrived, were ranged a half dozen

handsome cars of various builds and colors. The sight of

them, sprinkled on tops, running boards and fenders with

the fresh, flaky snow, gave him a keen sense of a

deficiency that was not likely soon to be remedied in his

case—the want of ample means wherewith to equip himself

with such a necessity as that. And inside as he approached

the door he could hear voices, laughter and conversation