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

reluctantly enough, since it was so different from the street in which she resided. As the car sped on, he was animated by a feverish desire to make some use of this brief occasion which might cause her to think favorably of him⁠—perhaps, who knows⁠—lead to some faint desire on her part to contact him again at some time or other. He was so truly eager to be of her world.

“It’s certainly nice of you to take me up this way,” he now turned to her and observed, smiling. “I didn’t think it was my cousin you meant or I wouldn’t have come up as I did.”

“Oh, that’s all right. Don’t mention it,” replied Sondra archly with a kind of sticky sweetness in her voice. Her original impression of him as she now felt, had been by no means so vivid. “It’s my mistake, not yours. But I’m glad I made it now, anyhow,” she added most definitely and with an engaging smile. “I think I’d rather pick you up than I would Gil, anyhow. We don’t get along any too well, he and I. We quarrel a lot whenever we do meet anywhere.” She smiled, having completely recovered from her momentary embarrassment, and now leaned back after the best princess fashion, her glance examining Clyde’s very regular features with interest. He had such soft smiling eyes she thought. And after all, as she now reasoned, he was Bella’s and Gilbert’s cousin, and looked prosperous.

“Well, that’s too bad,” he said stiffly, and with a very awkward and weak attempt at being self-confident and even high-spirited in her presence.

“Oh, it doesn’t amount to anything, really. We just quarrel, that’s all, once in a while.”

She saw that he was nervous and bashful and decidedly unresourceful in her presence and it pleased her to think that she could thus befuddle and embarrass him so much. “Are you still working for your uncle?”

“Oh, yes,” replied Clyde quickly, as though it would make an enormous difference to her if he were not. “I have charge of a department over there now.”

“Oh, really, I didn’t know. I haven’t seen you at all, since that one time, you know. You don’t get time to go about much, I suppose.” She looked at him wisely, as much as to say, “Your relatives aren’t so very much interested in you,” but really liking him now, she said instead, “You have been in the city all summer, I suppose?”

“Oh, yes,” replied Clyde quite simply and winningly. “I have to be, you know. It’s the work that keeps me here. But I’ve seen your name in the papers often, and read about your riding and tennis contests and I saw you in that flower parade last June, too. I certainly thought you looked beautiful, like an angel almost.”

There was an admiring, pleading light in his eyes which now quite charmed her. What a pleasing young man⁠—so different to Gilbert. And to think he should be so plainly and hopelessly smitten, and when she could take no more than a passing interest in him. It made her feel sorry, a little, and hence kindly toward him. Besides what would Gilbert think if only he knew that his cousin was so completely reduced by her⁠—how angry he would be⁠—he, who so plainly thought her a snip? It would serve him just right if Clyde were taken up by someone and made more of than he (Gilbert) ever could hope to be. The thought had a most pleasing tang for her.

However, at this point, unfortunately, the car turned in before Mrs. Peyton’s door and stopped. The adventure for Clyde and for her was seemingly over.

“That’s awfully nice of you to say that. I won’t forget that.” She smiled archly as, the chauffeur opening the door, Clyde stepped down, his own nerves taut because of the grandeur and import of this encounter. “So this is where you live. Do you expect to be in Lycurgus all winter?”

“Oh, yes. I’m quite sure of it. I hope to be anyhow,” he added, quite yearningly, his eyes expressing his meaning completely.

“Well, perhaps, then I’ll see you again somewhere, some time. I hope so, anyhow.”

She nodded and gave him her fingers and the most fetching and wreathy of smiles, and he, eager to the point of folly, added: “Oh, so do I.”

“Good night! Good night!” she called as the car sprang away, and Clyde, looking after it, wondered if he would ever see her again so closely and intimately as here. To think that he should have met her again in this way! And she had proved so very different from that first time when, as he distinctly recalled, she took no interest in him at all.

He turned hopefully and a little wistfully toward his own door.

And Sondra⁠ ⁠… why was it, she pondered, as the motor car sped on its way, that the Griffiths were apparently not much interested in him?

XXIV

The effect of this so casual contact was really disrupting in more senses than one. For now in spite of his comfort in and satisfaction with Roberta, once more and in this positive and to him entrancing way, was posed the whole question of his social possibilities here. And that strangely enough by the one girl of this upper level who had most materialized and magnified for him the meaning of that upper level itself. The beautiful Sondra Finchley! Her lovely face, smart clothes, gay and superior demeanor! If only at the time he had first encountered her he had managed to interest her. Or could now.

The fact that his relations with Roberta were what they were now was not of sufficient import or weight to offset the temperamental or imaginative pull of such a girl as Sondra and all that she represented. Just to think the Wimblinger Finchley Electric Sweeper Company was one of the largest manufacturing concerns here. Its tall walls and stacks made a part of the striking sky line across the Mohawk.