An American Tragedy by Theodore Dreiser

you don’t want me to.”

“Oh, no, not every fellow.” Sondra was at once intrigued

and checkmated by the simplicity of his retort. “There are

lots of people who don’t think I’m very pretty.”

“Oh, don’t they, though?” he returned quite gayly, for at

once he saw that she was not making fun of him. And yet

he was almost afraid to venture another compliment.

Instead he cast about for something else to say, and going

back to the conversation at the table concerning riding and

tennis, he now asked: “You like everything out-of-doors and

athletic, don’t you?”

“Oh, do I?” was her quick and enthusiastic response.

“There isn’t anything I like as much, really. I’m just crazy

about riding, tennis, swimming, motor-boating, aqua-

planing. You swim, don’t you?”

“Oh, sure,” said Clyde, grandly.

“Do you play tennis?”

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484

“Well, I’ve just taken it up,” he said, fearing to admit that he

did not play at all.

“Oh, I just love tennis. We might play sometime together.”

Clyde’s spirits were completely restored by this. And

tripping as lightly as dawn to the mournful strains of a

popular love song, she went right on. “Bella Griffiths and

Stuart and Grant and I play fine doubles. We won nearly all

the finals at Greenwood and Twelfth Lake last summer.

And when it comes to aqua-planing and high diving you just

ought to see me. We have the swiftest motor-boat up at

Twelfth Lake now—Stuart has. It can do sixty miles an

hour.”

At once Clyde realized that he had hit upon the one subject

that not only fascinated, but even excited her. For not only

did it involve outdoor exercise, in which obviously she

reveled, but also the power to triumph and so achieve

laurels in such phases of sport as most interested those

with whom she was socially connected. And lastly, although

this was something which he did not so clearly realize until

later, she was fairly dizzied by the opportunity all this

provided for frequent changes of costume and hence social

show, which was the one thing above all others that did

interest her. How she looked in a bathing suit—a riding or

tennis or dancing or automobile costume!

They danced on together, thrilled for the moment at least,

by this mutual recognition of the identity and reality of this

interest each felt for the other—a certain momentary

warmth or enthusiasm which took the form of genial and

seeking glances into each other’s eyes, hints on the part of

Sondra that, assuming that Clyde could fit himself

athletically, financially and in other ways for such a world as

this, it might be possible that he would be invited here and

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485

there by her; broad and for the moment self-deluding

notions on his part that such could and would be the case,

while in reality just below the surface of his outward or

seeming conviction and assurance ran a deeper current of

self-distrust which showed as a decidedly eager and yet

slightly mournful light in his eye, a certain vigor and

assurance in his voice, which was nevertheless touched,

had she been able to define it, with something that was not

assurance by any means.

“Oh, the dance is done,” he said sadly.

“Let’s try to make them encore,” she said, applauding. The

orchestra struck up a lively tune and they glided off together

once more, dipping and swaying here and there—

harmoniously abandoning themselves to the rhythm of the

music—like two small chips being tossed about on a rough

but friendly sea.

“Oh, I’m so glad to be with you again—to be dancing with

you. It’s so wonderful … Sondra.”

“But you mustn’t call me that, you know. You don’t know me

well enough.”

“I mean Miss Finchley. But you’re not going to be mad at

me again, are you?”

His face was very pale and sad again.

She noticed it.

“No. Was I mad at you? I wasn’t really. I like you … some

… when you’re not sentimental.”

The music stopped. The light tripping feet became walking

ones.

“I’d like to see if it’s still snowing outside, wouldn’t you?” It

was Sondra asking.

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486

“Oh, yes. Let’s go.”

Through the moving couples they hurried out a side-door to

a world that was covered thick with soft, cottony, silent

snow. The air was filled with it silently eddying down.

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Chapter 27

THE ensuing December days brought to Clyde some

pleasing and yet complicating and disturbing developments.

For Sondra Finchley, having found him so agreeable an

admirer of hers, was from the first inclined neither to forget

nor neglect him. But, occupying the rather prominent social

position which she did, she was at first rather dubious as to

how to proceed. For Clyde was too poor and decidedly too

much ignored by the Griffiths themselves, even, for her to

risk any marked manifestation of interest in him.

And now, in addition to the primary motivating reason for all

this—her desire to irritate Gilbert by being friends with his

cousin—there was another. She liked him. His charm and

his reverence for her and her station flattered and intrigued

her. For hers was a temperament which required adulation

in about the measure which Clyde provided it—sincere and

romantic adulation. And at the very same time he

represented physical as well as mental attributes which

were agreeable to her—amorousness without the courage

at the time, anyhow, to annoy her too much; reverence

which yet included her as a very human being; a mental

and physical animation which quite matched and

companioned her own.

Hence it was decidedly a troublesome thought with Sondra

how she was to proceed with Clyde without attracting too

much attention and unfavorable comment to herself—a

thought which kept her sly little brain going at nights after

she had retired. However, those who had met him at the

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Trumbulls’ were so much impressed by her interest in him

that evening and the fact that he had proved so pleasing

and affable, they in turn, the girls particularly, were satisfied

that he was eligible enough.

And in consequence, two weeks later, Clyde, searching for

inexpensive Christmas presents in Stark’s for his mother,

father, sisters, brother and Roberta, and encountering Jill

Trumbull doing a little belated shopping herself, was invited

by her to attend a pre-Christmas dance that was to be

given the next night by Vanda Steele at her home in

Gloversville. Jill herself was going with Frank Harriet and

she was not sure but that Sondra Finchley would be there.

Another engagement of some kind appeared to be in the

way, but still she was intending to come if she could. But

her sister Gertrude would be glad to have him escort her—a

very polite way of arranging for Gertrude. Besides, as she

knew, if Sondra heard that Clyde was to be there, this might

induce her to desert her other engagement.

“Tracy will be glad to stop for you in time,” she went on, “or

—” she hesitated—“perhaps you’d like to come over for

dinner with us before we go. It’ll be just the family, but we’d

be delighted to have you. The dancing doesn’t begin till

eleven.”

The dance was for Friday night, and on that night Clyde had

arranged to be with Roberta because on the following day

she was leaving for a three-day-over-Christmas holiday visit

to her parents—the longest stretch of time thus far she had

spent away from him. And because, apart from his

knowledge she had arranged to present him with a new

fountain pen and Eversharp pencil, she had been most

anxious that he should spend this last evening with her, a

fact which she had impressed upon him. And he, on his

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489

part, had intended to make use of this last evening to

surprise her with a white-and-black toilet set.

But now, so thrilled was he at the possiblity of a re-

encounter with Sondra, he decided that he would cancel

this last evening engagement with Roberta, although not

without some misgivings as to the difficulty as well as the

decency of it. For despite the fact that he was now so lured

by Sondra, nevertheless he was still deeply interested in

Roberta and he did not like to grieve her in this way. She

would look so disappointed, as he knew. Yet at the same

time so flattered and enthused was he by this sudden, if

tardy, social development that he could not now think of

refusing Jill. What? Neglect to visit the Steeles in

Gloversville and in company with the Trumbulls and without

any help from the Griffiths, either? It might be disloyal,

cruel, treacherous to Roberta, but was he not likely to meet

Sondra?

In consequence he announced that he would go, but

immediately afterwards decided that he must go round and

explain to Roberta, make some suitable excuse—that the