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 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 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 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 gift had been
given to her, Roberta now put the box on the table, all the zest that
might have been joined with it completely banished.
"Did you have a good time last night, dear?" she queried, curious as to
the outcome of the event that had robbed her of him.
"Oh, pretty good," returned Clyde, anxious to put as deceptive a face
as possible on the night that had meant so much to him and spelled so
much danger to her. "I thought I was just going over to my uncle's for
dinner like I told you. But after I got there I found that what they
really wanted me for was to escort Bella and Myra over to some doings
in Gloversville. There's a rich family over there, the Steeles--big
glove people, you know. Well, anyhow, they were giving a dance and they
wanted me to take them over because Gil couldn't go. But it wasn't so
very interesting. I was glad when it was all over." He used the names
Bella, Myra and Gilbert as though they were long and assured intimates
of his--an intimacy which invariably impressed Roberta greatly.
"You didn't get through in time then to come around here, did you?"
"No, I didn't, 'cause I had to wait for the bunch to come back. I just
couldn't get away. But aren't you going to open your present?" he
added, anxious to divert her thoughts from this desertion which he knew
was preying on her mind.
She began to untie the ribbon that bound his gift, at the same time
that her mind was riveted by the possibilities of the party which he
had felt called upon to mention. What girls beside Bella and Myra had
been there? Was there by any chance any girl outside of herself in whom
he might have become recently interested? He was always talking about
Sondra Finchley, Bertine Cranston and Jill Trumbull. Were they, by any
chance, at this party?
"Who all were over there beside your cousins?" she suddenly asked.
"Oh, a lot of people that you don't know. Twenty or thirty from
different places around here."
"Any others from Lycurgus beside your cousins?" she persisted.
"Oh, a few. We picked up Jill Trumbull and her sister, because Bella
wanted to. Arabella Stark and Perley Haynes were already over there
when we got there." He made no mention of Sondra or any of the others
who so interested him.
But because of the manner in saying it--something in the tone of his
voice and flick of his eyes, the answer did not satisfy Roberta. She
was really intensely troubled by this new development, but did not feel
that under the circumstances it was wise to importune Clyde too much.
He might resent it. After all he had always been identified with this
world since ever she had known him. And she did not want him to feel
that she was attempting to assert any claims over him, though such was
her true desire.
"I wanted so much to be with you last night to give you your present,"
she returned instead, as much to divert her own thoughts as to appeal
to his regard for her. Clyde sensed the sorrow in her voice and as of
old it appealed to him, only now he could not and would not let it take
hold of him as much as otherwise it might have.
"But you know how that was, Bert," he replied, with almost an air of
bravado. "I just told you."
"I know," she replied sadly and attempting to conceal the true mood
that was dominating her. At the same time she was removing the paper
and opening the lid to the case that contained her toilet set. And
once opened, her mood changed slightly because never before had she
possessed anything so valuable or original. "Oh, this is beautiful,
isn't it?" she exclaimed, interested for the moment in spite of
herself. "I didn't expect anything like this. My two little presents
won't seem like very much now."
She crossed over at once to get her gifts. Yet Clyde could see that
although his gift was exceptional, still it was not sufficient to
overcome the depression which his indifference had brought upon her.
His continued love was far more vital than any present.
"You like it, do you?" he asked, eagerly hoping against hope that it
would serve to divert her.
"Of course, dear," she replied, looking at it interestedly. "But mine
won't seem so much," she added gloomily, and not a little depressed by
the general outcome of all her plans. "But they'll be useful to you and
you'll always have them near you, next your heart, where I want them to
be."
She handed over the small box which contained the metal ever-sharp
pencil and the silver ornamented fountain pen she had chosen for him
because she fancied they would be useful to him in his work at the
factory. Two weeks before he would have taken her in his arms and
sought to console her for the misery he was now causing her. But now he
merely stood there wondering how, without seeming too distant, he could
assuage her and yet not enter upon the customary demonstrations. And in
order so to do he burst into enthusiastic and yet somehow hollow words
in regard to her present to him.
"Oh, gee, these are swell, honey, and just what I need. You certainly
couldn't have given me anything that would come in handier. I can
use them all the time." He appeared to examine them with the utmost
pleasure and afterwards fastened them in his pocket ready for use.
Also, because for the moment she was before him so downcast and
wistful, epitomizing really all the lure of the old relationship, he
put his arms around her and kissed her. She was winsome, no doubt of
it. And then when she threw her arms around his neck and burst into
tears, he held her close, saying that there was no cause for all this
and that she would be back Wednesday and all would be as before. At the
same time he was thinking that this was not true, and how strange that
was--seeing that only so recently he had cared for her so much. It was
amazing how another girl could divert him in this way. And yet so it
was. And although she might be thinking that he was still caring for
her as he did before, he was not and never would again. And because of
this he felt really sorry for her.
Something of this latest mood in him reached Roberta now, even as she
listened to his words and felt his caresses. They failed to convey
sincerity. His manner was too restless, his embraces too apathetic, his
tone without real tenderness. Further proof as to this was added when,
after a moment or two, he sought to disengage himself and looked at his
watch, saying, "I guess I'll have to be going now, honey. It's twenty
of three now and that meeting is for three. I wish I could ride over
with you, but I'll see you when you get back."
He bent down to kiss her but with Roberta sensing once and for all,
this time, that his mood in regard to her was different, colder. He
was interested and kind, but his thoughts were elsewhere--and at this
particular season of the year, too--of all times. She tried to gather
her strength and her self-respect together and did, in part--saying
rather coolly, and determinedly toward the last: "Well, I don't want
you to be late, Clyde. You better hurry. But I don't want to stay over
there either later than Christmas night. Do you suppose if I come back
early Christmas afternoon, you will come over here at all? I don't want
to be late Wednesday for work."
"Why, sure, of course, honey, I'll be around," replied Clyde genially
and even whole-heartedly, seeing that he had nothing else scheduled,
that he knew of, for then, and would not so soon and boldly seek to
evade her in this fashion. "What time do you expect to get in?"
The hour was to be eight and he decided that for that occasion, anyhow,
a reunion would be acceptable. He drew out his watch again and saying,
"I'll have to be going now, though," moved toward the door.
Nervous as to the significance of all this and concerned about the
future, she now went over to him and seizing his coat lapels and
looking into his eyes, half-pleaded and half-demanded: "Now, this
is sure for Christmas night, is it, Clyde? You won't make any other
engagement this time, will you?"
"Oh, don't worry. You know me. You know I couldn't help that other,
honey. But I'll be on hand Tuesday, sure," he returned. And kissing
her, he hurried out, feeling, perhaps, that he was not acting as wisely
as he should, but not seeing clearly how otherwise he was to do. A man
couldn't break off with a girl as he was trying to do, or at least
might want to, without exercising some little tact or diplomacy, could
he? There was no sense in that nor any real skill, was there? There
must be some other and better way than that, surely. At the same time
his thoughts were already running forward to Sondra and New Year's Eve.
He was going with her to Schenectady to a party and then he would have
a chance to judge whether she was caring for him as much as she had
seemed to the night before.
After he had gone, Roberta turned in a rather lorn and weary way and
looked out the window after him, wondering as to what her future with
him was to be, if at all? Supposing now, for any reason, he should
cease caring for her. She had given him so much. And her future was now
dependent upon him, his continued regard. Was he going to get tired
of her now--not want to see her any more? Oh, how terrible that would
be. What would she--what could she do then? If only she had not given
herself to him, yielded so easily and so soon upon his demand.
She gazed out of her window at the bare snow-powdered branches of the
trees outside and sighed. The holidays! And going away like this. Oh!
Besides he was so high placed in this local society. And there were so
many things brighter and better than she could offer calling him.
She shook her head dubiously, surveyed her face in the mirror, put
together the few presents and belongings which she was taking with her
to her home, and departed.