An American Tragedy by Theodore Dreiser

agreed.

“But you know,” she said cautiously, “you mustn’t pay so

very much attention to me over there or here or anywhere

or think anything of it, if I don’t to you. I may not be able to

see so very much of you if you do. I’ll tell you about that

sometime. You see my father and mother are funny people.

And so are some of my friends here. But if you’ll just be

nice and sort of indifferent—you know—I may be able to

see quite a little of you this winter yet. Do you see?”

Thrilled beyond words by this confession, which came

because of his too ardent approaches as he well knew, he

looked at her eagerly and searchingly.

“But you care for me a little, then, don’t you?” he half-

demanded, half-pleaded, his eyes lit with that alluring light

which so fascinated her. And cautious and yet attracted,

swayed sensually and emotionally and yet dubious as to

the wisdom of her course, Sondra replied: “Well, I’ll tell you.

I do and I don’t. That is, I can’t tell yet. I like you a lot.

Sometimes I think I like you more than others. You see we

don’t know each other very well yet. But you’ll come with

me to Schenectady, though, won’t you?”

“Oh, will I?”

“I’ll write you more about that, or call you up. You have a

telephone, haven’t you?”

He gave her the number.

An American Tragedy

495

“And if by any chance there’s any change or I have to break

the engagement, don’t think anything of it. I’ll see you later—

somewhere, sure.” She smiled and Clyde felt as though he

were choking. The mere thought of her being so frank with

him, and saying that she cared for him a lot, at times, was

sufficient to cause him to almost reel with joy. To think that

this beautiful girl was so anxious to include him in her life if

she could—this wonderful girl who was surrounded by so

many friends and admirers from which she could take her

pick.

An American Tragedy

496

Chapter 28

SIX-THIRTY the following morning. And Clyde, after but a

single hour’s rest after his return from Gloversville, rising,

his mind full of mixed and troubled thoughts as to how to

readjust his affairs in connection with Roberta. She was

going to Biltz to-day. He had promised to go as far as

Fonda. But now he did not want to go. Of course he would

have to concoct some excuse. But what?

Fortunately the day before he had heard Whiggam tell

Liggett there was to be a meeting of department heads

after closing hours in Smillie’s office to-day, and that he was

to be there. Nothing was said to Clyde, since his

department was included in Liggett’s, but now he decided

that he could offer this as a reason and accordingly, about

an hour before noon, he dropped a note on her desk which

read:

“HONEY: Awfully sorry, but just told that I have to be at

a meeting of department heads downstairs at three.

That means I can’t go to Fonda with you, but will drop

around to the room for a few minutes right after closing.

Have something I want to give you, so be sure and

wait. But don’t feel too bad. It can’t be helped. See you

sure when you come back Wednesday.

“CLYDE.”

At first, since she could not read it at once, Roberta was

pleased because she imagined it contained some further

favorable word about the afternoon. But on opening it in the

An American Tragedy

497

ladies’ rest room a few minutes afterwards, her face fell.

Coupled as this was with the disappointment of the

preceding evening, when Clyde had failed to appear,

together with his manner of the morning which to her had

seemed self-absorbed, if not exactly distant, she began to

wonder what it was that was bringing about this sudden

change. Perhaps he could not avoid attending a meeting

any more than he could avoid going to his uncle’s when he

was asked. But the day before, following his word to her

that he could not be with her that evening, his manner was

gayer, less sober, than his supposed affection in the face of

her departure would warrant. After all he had known before

that she was to be gone for three days. He also knew that

nothing weighed on her more than being absent from him

any length of time.

At once her mood from one of hopefulness changed to one

of deep depression—the blues. Life was always doing

things like this to her. Here it was—two days before

Christmas, and now she would have to go to Biltz, where

there was nothing much but such cheer as she could bring,

and all by herself, and after scarcely a moment with him.

She returned to her bench, her face showing all the

unhappiness that had suddenly overtaken her. Her manner

was listless and her movements indifferent—a change

which Clyde noticed; but still, because of his sudden and

desperate feeling for Sondra, he could not now bring

himself to repent.

At one, the giant whistles of some of the neighboring

factories sounding the Saturday closing hours, both he and

Roberta betook themselves separately to her room. And he

was thinking to himself as he went what to say now. What

to do? How in the face of this suddenly frosted and

blanched affection to pretend an interest he did not feel—

how, indeed, continue with a relationship which now, as

An American Tragedy

498

alive and vigorous as it might have been as little as fifteen

days before, appeared exceedingly anemic and colorless. It

would not do to say or indicate in any way that he did not

care for her any more—for that would be so decidedly cruel

and might cause Roberta to say what? Do what? And on

the other hand, neither would it do, in the face of his

longings and prospects in the direction of Sondra to

continue in a type of approach and declaration that was not

true or sound and that could only tend to maintain things as

they were. Impossible! Besides, at the first hint of reciprocal

love on the part of Sondra, would he not be anxious and

determined to desert Roberta if he could? And why not? As

contrasted with one of Sondra’s position and beauty, what

had Roberta really to offer him? And would it be fair in one

of her station and considering the connections and the

possibilities that Sondra offered, for her to demand or

assume that he should continue a deep and undivided

interest in her as opposed to this other? That would not

really be fair, would it?

It was thus that he continued to speculate while Roberta,

preceding him to her room, was asking herself what was

this now that had so suddenly come upon her—over Clyde

—this sudden indifference, this willingness to break a pre-

Christmas date, and when she was about to leave for home

and not to see him for three days and over Christmas, too,

to make him not wish to ride with her even so far as Fonda.

He might say that it was that meeting, but was it? She could

have waited until four if necessary, but something in his

manner had precluded that—something distant and

evasive. Oh, what did this all mean? And, so soon after the

establishing of this intimacy, which at first and up to now at

least had seemed to be drawing them indivisibly together.

Did it spell a change—danger to or the end even of their

wonderful love dream? Oh, dear! And she had given him so

An American Tragedy

499

much and now his loyalty meant everything—her future—

her life.

She stood in her room pondering this new problem as

Clyde arrived, his Christmas package under his arm, but

still fixed in his determination to modify his present

relationship with Roberta, if he could—yet, at the same time

anxious to put as inconsequential a face on the proceeding

as possible.

“Gee, I’m awfully sorry about this, Bert,” he began briskly,

his manner a mixture of attempted gayety, sympathy and

uncertainty. “I hadn’t an idea until about a couple of hours

ago that they were going to have this meeting. But you

know how it is. You just can’t get out of a thing like this.

You’re not going to feel too bad, are you?” For already,

from her expression at the factory as well as here, he had

gathered that her mood was of the darkest. “I’m glad I got

the chance to bring this around to you, though,” he added,

handing the gift to her. “I meant to bring it around last night

only that other business came up. Gee, I’m sorry about the

whole thing. Really, I am.”

Delighted as she might have been the night before if this