But the resources of Clyde, in such a situation as this, were slim.
For, apart from Liggett, Whiggam, and a few minor though decidedly
pleasant and yet rather remote department heads, all of whom were now
looking on him as a distinctly superior person who could scarcely be
approached too familiarly in connection with anything, there was no
one to whom he could appeal. In so far as the social group to which
he was now so eagerly attaching himself was concerned, it would
have been absurd for him to attempt, however slyly, to extract any
information there. For while the youths of this world at least were
dashing here and there, and because of their looks, taste and means
indulging themselves in phases of libertinism--the proper wild oats
of youth--such as he and others like himself could not have dreamed
of affording, still so far was he from any real intimacy with any of
these that he would not have dreamed of approaching them for helpful
information.
His sanest thought, which occurred to him almost immediately after
leaving Roberta, was that instead of inquiring of any druggist or
doctor or person in Lycurgus--more particularly any doctor, since
the entire medical profession here, as elsewhere, appeared to him as
remote, cold, unsympathetic and likely very expensive and unfriendly
to such an immoral adventure as this--was to go to some near-by city,
preferably Schenectady, since it was larger and as near as any, and
there inquire what, if anything, could be obtained to help in such a
situation as this. For he must find something.
At the same time, the necessity for decision and prompt action was so
great that even on his way to the Starks', and without knowing any
drug or prescription to ask for, he resolved to go to Schenectady the
next night. Only that meant, as he later reasoned, that a whole day
must elapse before anything could be done for Roberta, and that, in
her eyes, as well as his own, would be leaving her open to the danger
that any delay at all involved. Therefore, he decided to act at once,
if he could; excuse himself to the Starks and then make the trip to
Schenectady on the interurban before the drug-stores over there should
close. But once there--what? How face the local druggist or clerk--and
ask for what? His mind was troubled with hard, abrasive thoughts as
to what the druggist might think, look or say. If only Ratterer or
Hegglund were here! They would know, of course, and be glad to help
him. Or Higby, even. But here he was now, all alone, for Roberta knew
nothing at all. There must be something though, of course. If not, if
he failed there, he would return and write Ratterer in Chicago, only in
order to keep himself out of this as much as possible he would say that
he was writing for a friend.
Once in Schenectady, since no one knew him there, of course he might
say (the thought came to him as an inspiration) that he was a newly
married man--why not? He was old enough to be one, and that his wife,
and that in the face of inability to care for a child now, was "past
her time" (he recalled a phrase that he had once heard Higby use), and
that he wanted something that would permit her to escape from that
state. What was so wrong with that as an idea? A young married couple
might be in just such a predicament. And possibly the druggist would,
or should be stirred to a little sympathy by such a state and might be
glad to tell him of something. Why not? That would be no real crime.
To be sure, one and another might refuse, but a third might not. And
then he would be rid of this. And then never again, without knowing
a lot more than he did now, would he let himself drift into any such
predicament as this. Never! It was too dreadful.
He betook himself to the Stark house very nervous and growing more
so every moment. So much so that, the dinner being eaten, he finally
declared as early as nine-thirty that at the last moment at the factory
a very troublesome report, covering a whole month's activities, had
been requested of him. And since it was not anything he could do at the
office, he was compelled to return to his room and make it out there--a
bit of energetic and ambitious commercialism, as the Starks saw it,
worthy of their admiration and sympathy. And in consequence he was
excused.
But arrived at Schenectady, he had barely time to look around a little
before the last car for Lycurgus should be leaving. His nerve began to
fail him. Did he look enough like a young married man to convince any
one that he was one? Besides were not such preventatives considered
very wrong--even by druggists?
Walking up and down the one very long Main Street still brightly
lighted at this hour, looking now in one drug-store window and
another, he decided for different reasons that each particular one
was not the one. In one, as he saw at a glance, stood a stout, sober,
smooth-shaven man of fifty whose bespectacled eyes and iron gray hair
seemed to indicate to Clyde's mind that he would be most certain to
deny such a youthful applicant as himself--refuse to believe that he
was married--or to admit that he had any such remedy, and suspect him
of illicit relations with some young, unmarried girl into the bargain.
He looked so sober, God-fearing, ultra-respectable and conventional.
No, it would not do to apply to him. He had not the courage to enter
and face such a person.
In another drug-store he observed a small, shriveled and yet dapper and
shrewd-looking man of perhaps thirty-five, who appeared to him at the
time as satisfactory enough, only, as he could see from the front, he
was being briskly assisted by a young woman of not more than twenty or
twenty-five. And assuming that she would approach him instead of the
man--an embarrassing and impossible situation--or if the man waited on
him, was it not probable that she would hear? In consequence he gave
up that place, and a third, a fourth, and a fifth, for varying and yet
equally cogent reasons--customers inside, a girl and a boy at a soda
fountain in front, an owner posed near the door and surveying Clyde as
he looked in and thus disconcerting him before he had time to consider
whether he should enter or not.
Finally, however, after having abandoned so many, he decided that he
must act or return defeated, his time and carfare wasted. Returning to
one of the lesser stores in a side street, in which a moment before
he had observed an undersized chemist idling about, he entered, and
summoning all the bravado he could muster, began: "I want to know
something. I want to know if you know of anything--well, you see, it's
this way--I'm just married and my wife is past her time and I can't
afford to have any children now if I can help it. Is there anything a
person can get that will get her out of it?"
His manner was brisk and confidential enough, although tinged with
nervousness and the inner conviction that the druggist must guess that
he was lying. At the same time, although he did not know it, he was
talking to a confirmed religionist of the Methodist group who did not
believe in interfering with the motives or impulses of nature. Any such
trifling was against the laws of God and he carried nothing in stock
that would in any way interfere with the ways of the Creator. At the
same time he was too good a merchant to wish to alienate a possible
future customer, and so he now said: "I'm sorry, young man, but I'm
afraid I can't help you in this case. I haven't a thing of that kind in
stock here--never handle anything of that kind because I don't believe
in 'em. It may be, though, that some of the other stores here in town
carry something of the sort. I wouldn't be able to tell you." His
manner as he spoke was solemn, the convinced and earnest tone and look
of the moralist who knows that he is right.
And at once Clyde gathered, and fairly enough in this instance, that
this man was reproachful. It reduced to a much smaller quantity the
little confidence with which he had begun his quest. And yet, since the
dealer had not directly reproached him and had even said that it might
be possible that some of the other druggists carried such a thing, he
took heart after a few moments, and after a brief fit of pacing here
and there in which he looked through one window and another, he finally
espied a seventh dealer alone. He entered, and after repeating his
first explanation he was informed, very secretively and yet casually,
by the thin, dark, casuistic person who waited on him--not the owner
in this instance--that there was such a remedy. Yes. Did he wish a
box? That (because Clyde asked the price) would be six dollars--a
staggering sum to the salaried inquirer. However, since the expenditure
seemed unescapable--to find anything at all a great relief--he at once
announced that he would take it, and the clerk, bringing him something
which he hinted ought to prove "effectual" and wrapping it up, he paid
and went out.
And then actually so relieved was he, so great had been the strain up
to this moment, that he could have danced for joy. Then there was a
cure, and it would work, of course. The excessive and even outrageous
price seemed to indicate as much. And under the circumstances, might he
not even consider that sum moderate, seeing that he was being let off
so easily? However, he forgot to inquire as to whether there was any
additional information or special directions that might prove valuable,
and instead, with the package in his pocket, some central and detached
portion of the ego within himself congratulating him upon his luck and
undaunted efficiency in such a crisis as this, he at once returned to
Lycurgus, where he proceeded to Roberta's room.
And she, like himself, impressed by his success in having secured
something which both he and she had feared did not exist, or if it
did, might prove difficult to procure, felt enormously relieved. In
fact, she was reimpressed by his ability and efficiency, qualities
with which, up to this time at least, she had endowed him. Also that
he was more generous and considerate than under the circumstances she
feared he would be. At least he was not coldly abandoning her to fate,
as previously in her terror she had imagined that he might. And this
fact, even in the face of his previous indifference, was sufficient to
soften her mood in regard to him. So with a kind of ebullience, based
on fattened hope resting on the pills, she undid the package and read
the directions, assuring him the while of her gratitude and that she
would not forget how _good_ he had been to her in this instance. At
the same time, even as she untied the package, the thought came to
her--supposing they would not work? Then what? And how would she go
about arranging with Clyde as to that? However, for the time being, as
she now reasoned, she must be satisfied and grateful for this, and at
once took one of the pills.
But once her expressions of gratefulness had been offered and Clyde
sensed that these same might possibly be looked upon as overtures to
a new intimacy between them, he fell back upon the attitude that for
days past had characterized him at the factory. Under no circumstances
must he lend himself to any additional blandishments or languishments
in this field. And if this drug proved effectual, as he most earnestly
hoped, it must be the last of any save the most accidental and casual
contacts. For there was too much danger, as this particular crisis had
proved--too much to be lost on his side--everything, in short--nothing
but worry and trouble and expense.
In consequence he retreated to his former reserve. "Well, you'll be all
right now, eh? Anyhow, let's hope so, huh? It says to take one every
two hours for eight or ten hours. And if you're just a little sick, it
says it doesn't make any difference. You may have to knock off a day or
two at the factory, but you won't mind that, will you, if it gets you
out of this? I'll come around to-morrow night and see how you are, if
you don't show up any time to-morrow."
He laughed genially, the while Roberta gazed at him, unable to
associate his present casual attitude with his former passion and
deep solicitude. His former passion! And now this! And yet, under the
circumstances, being truly grateful, she now smiled cordially and he
the same. Yet, seeing him go out, the door close, and no endearing
demonstrations of any kind having been exchanged between them, she
returned to her bed, shaking her head dubiously. For, supposing that
this remedy did not work after all? And he continued in this same
casual and remote attitude toward her? Then what? For unless this
remedy proved effectual, he might still be so indifferent that he might
not want to help her long--or would he? Could he do that, really? He
was the one who had brought her to this difficulty, and against her
will, and he had so definitely assured her that nothing would happen.
And now she must lie here alone and worry, not a single person to turn
to, except him, and he was leaving her for others with the assurance
that she would be all right. And he had caused it all! Was that quite
right?
"Oh, Clyde! Clyde!"