An American Tragedy by Theodore Dreiser

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.

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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.”

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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

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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?”

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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.

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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