An American Tragedy by Theodore Dreiser (i can read book club .TXT) 📕

Lycurgus, how under the circumstances, owing to Clyde’s position here, could they be seen in them? They could not, as both reasoned between them. And so now, while her movements were unrestrained, there was no place to go unless by some readjustment of their relations he might be permitted to call on her at the Gilpins’. But that, as he knew, she would not think of and, at first, neither had he the courage to suggest it.

However they were at a street-end one early October night about six weeks after she had moved to her new room. The stars were sharp. The air cool. The leaves were beginning to turn. Roberta had returned to a three-quarter green-and-cream-striped winter coat that she wore at this season of the year. Her hat was brown, trimmed with brown leather and of a design that became her. There had been kisses over and over⁠—that same fever that had been dominating them continuously since first they met⁠—only more pronounced if anything.

“It’s getting cold, isn’t it?” It was Clyde who spoke. And it was eleven o’clock and chill.

“Yes, I should say it is. I’ll soon have to get a heavier coat.”

“I don’t see how we are to do from now on, do you? There’s no place to go any more much, and it won’t be very pleasant walking the streets this way every night. You don’t suppose we could fix it so I could call on you at the Gilpins’ once in a while, do you? It isn’t the same there now as it was at the Newtons’.”

“Oh, I know, but then they use their sitting room every night nearly until ten-thirty or eleven. And besides their two girls are in and out all hours up to twelve, anyhow, and they’re in there often. I don’t see how I can. Besides, I thought you said you didn’t want to have anyone see you with me that way, and if you came there I couldn’t help introducing you.”

“Oh, but I don’t mean just that way,” replied Clyde audaciously and yet with the feeling that Roberta was much too squeamish and that it was high time she was taking a somewhat more liberal attitude toward him if she cared for him as much as she appeared to: “Why wouldn’t it be all right for me to stop in for a little while? They wouldn’t need to know, would they?” He took out his watch and discovered with the aid of a match that it was eleven-thirty. He showed the time to her. “There wouldn’t be anybody there now, would there?”

She shook her head in opposition. The thought not only terrified but sickened her. Clyde was getting very bold to even suggest anything like that. Besides this suggestion embodied in itself all the secret fears and compelling moods which hitherto, although actual in herself, she was still unwilling to face. There was something sinful, low, dreadful about it. She would not. That was one thing sure. At the same time within her was that overmastering urge of repressed and feared desire now knocking loudly for recognition.

“No, no, I can’t let you do that. It wouldn’t be right. I don’t want to. Someone might see us. Somebody might know you.” For the moment the moral repulsion was so great that unconsciously she endeavored to relinquish herself from his embrace.

Clyde sensed how deep was this sudden revolt. All the more was he flagellated by the desire for possession of that which now he half feared to be unobtainable. A dozen seductive excuses sprang to his lips. “Oh, who would be likely to see us anyhow, at this time of night? There isn’t anyone around. Why shouldn’t we go there for a few moments if we want to? No one would be likely to hear us. We needn’t talk so loud. There isn’t anyone on the street, even. Let’s walk by the house and see if anybody is up.”

Since hitherto she had not permitted him to come within half a block of the house, her protest was not only nervous but vigorous. Nevertheless on this occasion Clyde was proving a little rebellious and Roberta, standing somewhat in awe of him as her superior, as well as her lover, was unable to prevent their walking within a few feet of the house where they stopped. Except for a barking dog there was not a sound to be heard anywhere. And in the house no light was visible.

“See, there’s no one up,” protested Clyde reassuringly. “Why shouldn’t we go in for a little while if we want to? Who will know? We needn’t make any noise. Besides, what is wrong with it? Other people do it. It isn’t such a terrible thing for a girl to take a fellow to her room if she wants to for a little while.”

“Oh, isn’t it? Well, maybe not in your set. But I know what’s right and I don’t think that’s right and I won’t do it.”

At once, as she said this, Roberta’s heart gave a pained and weakening throb, for in saying so much she had exhibited more individuality and defiance than ever he had seen or that she fancied herself capable of in connection with him. It terrified her not a little. Perhaps he would not like her so much now if she were going to talk like that.

His mood darkened immediately. Why did she want to act so? She was too cautious, too afraid of anything that spelled a little life or pleasure. Other girls were not like that⁠—Rita, those girls at the factory. She pretended to love him. She did not object to his holding her in his arms and kissing her under a tree at the end of the street. But when it came to anything slightly more private or intimate, she could not bring herself to agree. What kind of a girl was she, anyhow? What was the use of pursuing her? Was this to be another case of Hortense Briggs