However, by reason of his own charm, he soon managed to
overcome the sense of strangeness and hence indifference
in some quarters, more particularly the young women of the
group who were interested by the fact that Sondra Finchley
liked him. And Jill Trumbull, sitting beside him, wanted to
know where he came from, what his own home life and
connections were like, why he had decided to come to
Lycurgus, questions which, interjected as they were
between silly banter concerning different girls and their
beaus, gave Clyde pause. He did not feel that he could
admit the truth in connection with his family at all. So he
announced that his father conducted a hotel in Denver—not
so very large, but still a hotel. Also that he had come to
Lycurgus because his uncle had suggested to him in
Chicago that he come to learn the collar business. He was
not sure that he was wholly interested in it or that he would
continue indefinitely unless it proved worth while; rather he
was trying to find out what it might mean to his future, a
remark which caused Sondra, who was also listening, as
well as Jill, to whom it was addressed, to consider that in
spite of all rumors attributed to Gilbert, Clyde must possess
some means and position to which, in case he did not do so
well here, he could return.
An American Tragedy
479
This in itself was important, not only to Sondra and Jill, but
to all the others. For, despite his looks and charm and
family connections here, the thought that he was a mere
nobody, seeking, as Constance Wynant had reported, to
attach himself to his cousin’s family, was disquieting. One
couldn’t ever be anything much more than friendly with a
moneyless clerk or pensioner, whatever his family
connections, whereas if he had a little money and some
local station elsewhere, the situation was entirely different.
And now Sondra, relieved by this and the fact that he was
proving more acceptable than she had imagined he would,
was inclined to make more of him than she otherwise would
have done.,
“Are you going to let me dance with you after dinner?” was
one of the first things he said to her, infringing on a genial
smile given him in the midst of clatter concerning an
approaching dance somewhere.
“Why, yes, of course, if you want me to,” she replied,
coquettishly, seeking to intrigue him into further
romanticisms in regard to her.
“Just one?”
“How many do you want? There are a dozen boys here,
you know. Did you get a program when you came in?”
“I didn’t see any.”
“Never mind. After dinner you can get one. And you may
put me down for three and eight. That will leave you room
for others.” She smiled bewitchingly. “You have to be nice
to everybody, you know.”
“Yes, I know.” He was still looking at her. “But ever since I
saw you at my uncle’s last April, I’ve been wishing I might
see you again. I always look for your name in the papers.”
An American Tragedy
480
He looked at her seekingly and questioningly and in spite of
herself, Sondra was captivated by this naive confession.
Plainly he could not afford to go where or do what she did,
but still he would trouble to follow her name and
movements in print. She could not resist the desire to make
something more of this.
“Oh, do you?” she added. “Isn’t that nice? But what do you
read about me?”
“That you were at Twelfth and Greenwood Lakes and up at
Sharon for the swimming contests. I saw where you went
up to Paul Smith’s, too. The papers here seemed to think
you were interested in some one from Schroon Lake and
that you might be going to marry him.”
“Oh, did they? How silly. The papers here always say such
silly things.” Her tone implied that he might be intruding. He
looked embarrassed. This softened her and after a moment
she took up the conversation in the former vein.
“Do you like to ride?” she asked sweetly and placatively.
“I never have. You know I never had much chance at that,
but I always thought I could if I tried.”
“Of course, it’s not hard. If you took a lesson or two you
could, and,” she added in a somewhat lower tone, “we
might go for a canter sometime. There are lots of horses in
our stable that you would like, I’m sure.”
Clyde’s hair-roots tingled anticipatorily. He was actually
being invited by Sondra to ride with her sometime and he
could use one of her horses in the bargain.
“Oh, I would love that,” he said. “That would be wonderful.”
The crowd was getting up from the table. Scarcely any one
was interested in the dinner, because a chamber orchestra
An American Tragedy
481
of four having arrived, the strains of a preliminary fox trot
were already issuing from the adjacent living room—a long,
wide affair from which all obstructing furniture with the
exception of wall chairs had been removed.
“You had better see about your program and your dance
before all the others are gone,” cautioned Sondra.
“Yes, I will right away,” said Clyde, “but is two all I get with
you?”
“Well, make it three, five and eight then, in the first half.”
She waved him gayly away and he hurried for a dance card.
The dances were all of the eager fox-trotting type of the
period with interpolations and variations according to the
moods and temperaments of the. individual dancers.
Having danced so much with Roberta during the preceding
month, Clyde was in excellent form and keyed to the
breaking point by the thought that at last he was in social
and even affectional contact with a girl as wonderful as
Sondra.
And although wishing to seem courteous and interested in
others with whom he was dancing, he was almost dizzied
by passing contemplations of Sondra. She swayed so
droopily and dreamily in the embrace of Grant Cranston,
the while without seeming to, looking in his direction when
he was near, permitting him to sense how graceful and
romantic and poetic was her attitude toward all things—
what a flower of life she really was. And Nina Temple, with
whom he was now dancing for his benefit, just then
observed: “She is graceful, isn’t she?”
“Who?” asked Clyde, pretending an innocence he could not
physically verify, for his cheek and forehead flushed. “I don’t
know who you mean.”
“Don’t you? Then what are you blushing for?”
An American Tragedy
482
He had realized that he was blushing. And that his
attempted escape was ridiculous. He turned, but just then
the music stopped and the dancers drifted away to their
chairs. Sondra moved off with Grant Cranston and Clyde
led Nina toward a cushioned seat in a window in the library.
And in connection with Bertine with whom he next danced,
he found himself slightly flustered by the cool, cynical
aloofness with which she accepted and entertained his
attention. Her chief interest in Clyde was the fact that
Sondra appeared to find him interesting.
“You do dance well, don’t you? I suppose you must have
done a lot of dancing before you came here—in Chicago,
wasn’t it, or where?”
She talked slowly and indifferently.
“I was in Chicago before I came here, but I didn’t do so very
much dancing. I had to work.” He was thinking how such
girls as she had everything, as contrasted with girls like
Roberta, who had nothing. And yet, as he now felt in this
instance, he liked Roberta better. She was sweeter and
warmer and kinder—not so cold.
When the music started again with the sonorous
melancholy of a single saxophone interjected at times,
Sondra came over to him and placed her right hand in his
left and allowed him to put his arm about her waist, an
easy, genial and unembarrassed approach which, in the
midst of Clyde’s dream of her, was thrilling.
And then in her coquettish and artful way she smiled up in
his eyes, a bland, deceptive and yet seemingly promising
smile, which caused his heart to beat faster and his throat
to tighten. Some delicate perfume that she was using
thrilled in his nostrils as might have the fragrance of spring.
An American Tragedy
483
“Having a good time?”
“Yes—looking at you.”
“When there are so many other nice girls to look at?”
“Oh, there are no other girls as nice as you.”
“And I dance better than any other girl, and I’m much the
best-looking of any other girl here. Now—I’ve said it all for
you. Now what are you going to say?”
She looked up at him teasingly, and Clyde realizing that he
had a very different type to Roberta to deal with, was
puzzled and flushed.
“I see,” he said, seriously. “Every fellow tells you that, so