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 this quite right?
"Oh, Clyde! Clyde!"
Chapter 35
But the remedy he purchased failed to work. And because of nausea
and his advice she had not gone to the factory, but lay about
worrying. But, no saving result appearing, she began to take two
pills every hour instead of one--eager at any cost to escape the
fate which seemingly had overtaken her. And this made her
exceedingly sick--so much so that when Clyde arrived at six-thirty
he was really moved by her deathly white face, drawn cheeks and
large and nervous eyes, the pupils of which were unduly dilated.
Obviously she was facing a crisis, and because of him, and, while
it frightened, at the same time it made him sorry for her. Still,
so confused and perplexed was he by the problem which her unchanged
state presented to him that his mind now leaped forward to the
various phases and eventualities of such a failure as this. The
need of additional advice or service of some physician somewhere!
But where and how and who? And besides, as he now asked himself,
where was he to obtain the money in any such event?
Plainly in view of no other inspiration it was necessary for him to
return to the druggist at once and there inquire if there was
anything else--some other drug or some other thing that one might
do. Or if not that, then some low-priced shady doctor somewhere,
who, for a small fee, or a promise of payments on time, would help
in this case.
Yet even though this other matter was so important--tragic almost--
once outside his spirits lifted slightly. For he now recalled that
he had an appointment with Sondra at the Cranstons', where at nine
he and she, along with a number of others, were to meet and play
about as usual--a party. Yet once at the Cranstons', and despite
the keen allurement of Sondra, he could not keep his mind off
Roberta's state, which rose before him as a specter. Supposing now
any one of those whom he found gathered here--Nadine Harriet,
Perley Haynes, Violet Taylor, Jill Trumbull, Bella, Bertine, and
Sondra, should gain the least inkling of the scene he had just
witnessed? In spite of Sondra at the piano throwing him a
welcoming smile over her shoulder as he entered, his thoughts were
on Roberta. He must go around there again after this was over, to
see how she was and so relieve his own mind in case she were
better. In case she was not, he must write to Ratterer at once for
advice.
In spite of his distress he was trying to appear as gay and
unconcerned as ever--dancing first with Perley Haynes and then with
Nadine and finally, while waiting for a chance to dance with
Sondra, he approached a group who were trying to help Vanda Steele
solve a new scenery puzzle and asserted that he could read messages
written on paper and sealed in envelopes (the old serial letter
trick which he had found explained in an ancient book of parlor
tricks discovered on a shelf at the Peytons'). It had been his
plan to use it before in order to give himself an air of ease and
cleverness, but to-night he was using it to take his mind off the
greater problem that was weighing on him. And, although with the
aid of Nadine Harriet, whom he took into his confidence, he
succeeded in thoroughly mystifying the others, still his mind was
not quite on it. Roberta was always there. Supposing something
should really be wrong with her and he could not get her out of it.
She might even expect him to marry her, so fearful was she of her
parents and people. What would he do then? He would lose the
beautiful Sondra and she might even come to know how and why he had
lost her. But that would be wild of Roberta to expect him to do
that. He would not do it. He could not do it.
One thing was certain. He must get her out of this. He must! But
how? How?
And although at twelve o'clock Sondra signaled that she was ready
to go and that if he chose he might accompany her to her door (and
even stop in for a few moments) and although once there, in the
shade of a pergola which ornamented the front gate, she had allowed
him to kiss her and told him that she was beginning to think he was
the nicest ever and that the following spring when the family moved
to Twelfth Lake she was going to see if she couldn't think of some
way by which she could arrange to have him there over week-ends,
still, because of this pressing problem in connection with Roberta,
Clyde was so worried that he was not able to completely enjoy this
new and to him exquisitely thrilling demonstration of affection on
her part--this new and amazing social and emotional victory of his.
He must send that letter to Ratterer to-night. But before that he
must return to Roberta as he had promised and find out if she was
better. And after that he must go over to Schenectady in the
morning, sure, to see the druggist over there. For something must
be done about this unless she were better to-night.
And so, with Sondra's kisses thrilling on his lips, he left her to
go to Roberta, whose white face and troubled eyes told him as he
entered her room that no change had taken place. If anything she
was worse and more distressed than before, the larger dosage having
weakened her to the point of positive illness. However, as she
said, nothing mattered if only she could get out of this--that she
would almost be willing to die rather than face the consequences.
And Clyde, realizing what she meant and being so sincerely
concerned for himself, appeared in part distressed for her.
However, his previous indifference and the manner in which he had
walked off and left her alone this very evening prevented her from
feeling that there was any abiding concern in him for her now. And
this grieved her terribly. For she sensed now that he did not
really care for her any more, even though now he was saying that
she mustn't worry and that it was likely that if these didn't work
he would get something else that would; that he was going back to
the druggist at Schenectady the first thing in the morning to see
if there wasn't something else that he could suggest.
But the Gilpins had no telephone, and since he never ventured to
call at her room during the day and he never permitted her to call
him at Mrs. Peyton's, his plan in this instance was to pass by the
following morning before work. If she were all right, the two
front shades would be raised to the top; if not, then lowered to
the center. In that case he would depart for Schenectady at once,
telephoning Mr. Liggett that he had some outside duties to perform.
Just the same, both were terribly depressed and fearful as to what
this should mean for each of them. Clyde could not quite assure
himself that, in the event that Roberta was not extricated, he
would be able to escape without indemnifying her in some form which
might not mean just temporary efforts to aid her, but something
more--marriage, possibly--since already she had reminded him that
he had promised to see her through. But what had he really meant
by that at the time that he said it, he now asked himself. Not
marriage, most certainly, since his thought was not that he had
ever wanted to marry her, but rather just to play with her happily
in love, although, as he well knew, she had no such conception of
his eager mood at that time. He was compelled to admit to himself
that she had probably thought his intentions were more serious or
she would not have submitted to him at all.
But reaching home, and after writing and mailing the letter to
Ratterer, Clyde passed a troubled night. Next morning he paid a
visit to the druggist at Schenectady, the curtains of Roberta's
windows having been lowered to the center when he passed. But on
this occasion the latter had no additional aid to offer other than
the advisability of a hot and hence weakening bath, which he had
failed to mention in the first instance. Also some wearying form
of physical exercise. But noting Clyde's troubled expression and
judging that the situation was causing him great worry, he
observed: "Of course, the fact that your wife has skipped a month
doesn't mean that there is anything seriously wrong, you know.
Women do that sometimes. Anyhow, you can't ever be sure until the
second month has passed. Any doctor will tell you that. If she's
nervous, let her try something like this. But even if it fails to
work, you can't be positive. She might be all right next month
just the same."
Thinly cheered by this information, Clyde was about to depart, for
Roberta might be wrong. He and she might be worrying needlessly.
Still--he was brought up with a round turn as he thought of it--
there might be real danger, and waiting until the end of the second
period would only mean that a whole month had elapsed and nothing
helpful accomplished--a freezing thought. In consequence he now
observed: "In case things don't come right, you don't happen to
know of a doctor she could go to, do you? This is rather a serious
business for both of us, and I'd like to get her out of it if I
could."
Something about the way in which Clyde said this--his extreme
nervousness as well as his willingness to indulge in a form of
malpractice which the pharmacist by some logic all his own
considered very different from just swallowing a preparation
intended to achieve the same result--caused him to look suspiciously
at Clyde, the thought stirring in his brain that very likely after
all Clyde was not married, also that this was one of those youthful
affairs which spelled license and future difficulty for some
unsophisticated girl. Hence his mood now changed, and instead of
being willing to assist, he now said coolly: "Well, there may be a
doctor around here, but if so I don't know. And I wouldn't
undertake to send any one to a doctor like that. It's against the
law. It would certainly go hard with any doctor around here who was
caught doing that sort of thing. That's not to say, though, that
you aren't at liberty to look around for yourself, if you want to,"
he added gravely, giving Clyde a suspicious and examining glance,
and deciding it were best if he had nothing further to do with such
a person.
Clyde therefore returned to Roberta with the same prescription
renewed, although she had most decidedly protested that, since the
first box had not worked, it was useless to get more. But since he
insisted, she was willing to try the drug the new way, although the
argument that a cold or nerves was the possible cause was only
sufficient to convince her that Clyde was at the end of his
resources in so far as she was concerned, or if not that, he was
far from being alive to the import of this both to herself and to
him. And supposing this new treatment did not work, then what?
Was he going to stop now and let the thing rest there?
Yet so peculiar was Clyde's nature that in the face of his fears in
regard to his future, and because it was far from pleasant to be
harried in this way and an infringement on his other interests, the
assurance that the delay of a month might not prove fatal was
sufficient to cause him to be willing to wait, and that rather
indifferently, for that length of time. Roberta might be wrong.
She might be making all this trouble for nothing. He must see how
she felt after she had tried this new way.
But the treatment failed. Despite the fact that in her distress
Roberta returned to the factory in order to weary herself, until
all the girls in the department assured her that she must be ill--
that she should not be working when she looked and plainly felt so
bad--still nothing came of it. And the fact that Clyde could dream
of falling back on the assurance of the druggist that a first
month's lapse was of no import only aggravated and frightened her
the more.
The truth was that in this crisis he was as interesting an
illustration of the enormous handicaps imposed by ignorance, youth,
poverty and fear as one could have found. Technically he did not
even know the meaning of the word "midwife," or the nature of the
services performed by her. (And there were three here in Lycurgus
at this time in the foreign family section.) Again, he had been in
Lycurgus so short a time, and apart from the young society men and
Dillard whom he had cut, and the various department heads at the
factory, he knew no one--an occasional barber, haberdasher, cigar
dealer and the like, the majority of whom, as he saw them, were
either too dull or too ignorant for his purpose.
One thing, however, which caused him to pause before ever he
decided to look up a physician was the problem of who was to
approach him and how. To go himself was simply out of the
question. In the first place, he looked too much like Gilbert
Griffiths, who was decidedly too well-known here and for whom he
might be mistaken. Next, it was unquestionable that, being as
well-dressed as he was, the physician would want to charge him
more, maybe, than he could afford and ask him all sorts of
embarrassing questions, whereas if it could be arranged through
some one else--the details explained before ever Roberta was sent--
Why not Roberta herself! Why not? She looked so simple and
innocent and unassuming and appealing at all times. And in such a
situation as this, as depressed and downcast as she was, well...
For after all, as he now casuistically argued with himself, it was
she and not he who was facing the immediate problem which had to be
solved.
And again, as it now came to him, would she not be able to get it
done cheaper? For looking as she did now, so distrait-- If only
he could get her to say that she had been deserted by some young
man, whose name she would refuse to divulge, of course, well, what
physician seeing a girl like her alone and in such a state--no one
to look after her--would refuse her? It might even be that he
would help her out for nothing. Who could tell? And that would
leave him clear of it all.
And in consequence he now approached Roberta, intending to prepare
her for the suggestion that, assuming that he could provide a
physician and the nature of his position being what it was, she
must speak for herself. But before he had spoken she at once
inquired of him as to what, if anything, more he had heard or done.
Wasn't some other remedy sold somewhere? And this giving him the
opportunity he desired, he explained: "Well, I've asked around and
looked into most of the drug-stores and they tell me if this one
won't work that none will. That leaves me sorta stumped now,
unless you're willing to go and see a doctor. But the trouble with
that is they're hard to find--the ones who'll do anything and keep
their mouths shut. I've talked with several fellows without saying
who it's for, of course, but it ain't so easy to get one around
here, because they are all too much afraid. It's against the law,
you see. But what I want to know now is, supposing I find a doctor
who would do it, will you have the nerve to go and see him and tell
him what the trouble is? That's what I want to know."
She looked at him dazedly, not quite grasping that he was hinting
that she was to go entirely alone, but rather assuming that of
course he meant to go with her. Then, her mind concentrating
nervously upon the necessity of facing a doctor in his company, she
first exclaimed: "Oh, dear, isn't it terrible to think of us
having to go to a doctor in this way? Then he'll know all about
us, won't he? And besides it's dangerous, isn't it, although I
don't suppose it could be much worse than those old pills." She
went off into more intimate inquiries as to what was done and how,
but Clyde could not enlighten her.
"Oh, don't be getting nervous over that now," he said. "It isn't
anything that's going to hurt you, I know. Besides we'll be lucky
if we find some one to do it. What I want to know is if I do find
a doctor, will you be willing to go to him alone?" She started as
if struck, but unabashed now he went on, "As things stand with me
here, I can't go with you, that's sure. I'm too well known around
here, and besides I look too much like Gilbert and he's known to
everybody. If I should be mistaken for him, or be taken for his
cousin or relative, well, then the jig's up."
His eyes were not only an epitome of how wretched he would feel
were he exposed to all Lycurgus for what he was, but also in them
lurked a shadow of the shabby role he was attempting to play in
connection with her--in hiding thus completely behind her
necessity. And yet so tortured was he by the fear of what was
about to befall him in case he did not succeed in so doing, that he
was now prepared, whatever Roberta might think or say, to stand his
ground. But Roberta, sensing only the fact that he was thinking of
sending her alone, now exclaimed incredulously: "Not alone, Clyde!
Oh, no, I couldn't do that! Oh, dear, no! Why, I'd be frightened
to death. Oh, dear, no. Why, I'd be so frightened I wouldn't know
what to do. Just think how I'd feel, trying to explain to him
alone. I just couldn't do that. Besides, how would I know what to
say--how to begin? You'll just have to go with me at first, that's
all, and explain, or I never can go--I don't care what happens."
Her eyes were round and excited and her face, while registering
all the depression and fear that had recently been there, was
transfigured by definite opposition.
But Clyde was not to be shaken either.
"You know how it is with me here, Bert. I can't go, and that's all
there is to it. Why, supposing I were seen--supposing some one
should recognize me? What then? You know how much I've been going
around here since I've been here. Why, it's crazy to think that I
could go. Besides, it will be a lot easier for you than for me.
No doctor's going to think anything much of your coming to him,
especially if you're alone. He'll just think you're some one who's
got in trouble and with no one to help you. But if I go, and it
should be any one who knows anything about the Griffiths, there'd
be the deuce to pay. Right off he'd think I was stuffed with
money. Besides, if I didn't do just what he wanted me to do
afterwards, he could go to my uncle, or my cousin, and then, good
night! That would be the end of me. And if I lost my place here
now, and with no money and that kind of scandal connected with me,
where do you suppose I would be after that, or you either? I
certainly couldn't look after you then. And then what would you
do? I should think you'd wake up and see what a tough proposition
this is. My name can't be pulled into this without trouble for
both of us. It's got to be kept out, that's all, and the only way
for me to keep it out is for me to stay away from any doctor.
Besides, he'd feel a lot sorrier for you than he would for me.
You can't tell me!"
His eyes were distressed and determined, and, as Roberta could
gather from his manner, a certain hardness, or at least defiance,
the result of fright, showed in every gesture. He was determined
to protect his own name, come what might--a fact which, because of
her own acquiescence up to this time, still carried great weight
with her.
"Oh, dear! dear!" she exclaimed, nervously and sadly now, the
growing and drastic terror of the situation dawning upon her, "I
don't see how we are to do then. I really don't. For I can't do
that and that's all there is to it. It's all so hard--so terrible.
I'd feel too much ashamed and frightened to ever go alone."
But even as she said this she began to feel that she might, and
even would, go alone, if must be. For what else was there to do?
And how was she to compel him, in the face of his own fears and
dangers, to jeopardize his position here? He began once more, in
self-defense more than from any other motive:
"Besides, unless this thing isn't going to cost very much, I don't
see how I'm going to get by with it anyhow, Bert. I really don't.
I don't make so very much, you know--only twenty-five dollars up to
now." (Necessity was at last compelling him to speak frankly with
Roberta.) "And I haven't saved anything--not a cent. And you know
why as well as I do. We spent the most of it together. Besides if
I go and he thought I had money, he might want to charge me more
than I could possibly dig up. But if you go and just tell him how
things are--and that you haven't got anything--if you'd only say
I'd run away or something, see--"
He paused because, as he said it, he saw a flicker of shame,
contempt, despair at being connected with anything so cheap and
shabby, pass over Roberta's face. And yet in spite of this sly and
yet muddy tergiversation on his part--so great is the compelling
and enlightening power of necessity--she could still see that there
was some point to his argument. He might be trying to use her as a
foil, a mask, behind which he, and she too for that matter, was
attempting to hide. But just the same, shameful as it was, here
were the stark, bald headlands of fact, and at their base the
thrashing, destroying waves of necessity. She heard him say: "You
wouldn't have to give your right name, you know, or where you came
from. I don't intend to pick out any doctor right around here,
see. Then, if you'd tell him you didn't have much money--just your
weekly salary--"
She sat down weakly to think, the while this persuasive trickery
proceeded from him--the import of most of his argument going
straight home. For as false and morally meretricious as this whole
plan was, still, as she could see for herself, her own as well as
Clyde's situation was desperate. And as honest and punctilious as
she might ordinarily be in the matter of truth-telling and honest-
dealing, plainly this was one of those whirling tempests of fact
and reality in which the ordinary charts and compasses of moral
measurement were for the time being of small use.
And so, insisting then that they go to some doctor far away, Utica
or Albany, maybe--but still admitting by this that she would go--
the conversation was dropped. And he having triumphed in the
matter of excepting his own personality from this, took heart to
the extent, at least, of thinking that at once now, by some hook or
crook, he must find a doctor to whom he could send her. Then his
terrible troubles in connection with all this would be over. And
after that she could go her way, as surely she must; then, seeing
that he would have done all that he could for her he would go his
way to the glorious denouement that lay directly before him in case
only this were adjusted.
Chapter 36
Nevertheless hours and even days, and finally a week and then ten
days, passed without any word from him as to the whereabouts of a
doctor to whom she could go. For although having said so much to
her he still did not know to whom to apply. And each hour and day
as great a menace to him as to her. And her looks as well as her
inquiries registering how intense and vital and even clamorous at
moments was her own distress. Also he was harried almost to the
point of nervous collapse by his own inability to think of any
speedy and sure way by which she might be aided. Where did a
physician live to whom he might send her with some assurance of
relief for her, and how was he to find out about him?
After a time, however, in running over all the names of those he
knew, he finally struck upon a forlorn hope in the guise of Orrin
Short, the young man conducting the one small "gents' furnishing
store" in Lycurgus which catered more or less exclusively to the
rich youths of the city--a youth of about his own years and
proclivities, as Clyde had guessed, who ever since he had been here
had been useful to him in the matter of tips as to dress and style
in general. Indeed, as Clyde had for some time noted, Short was a
brisk, inquiring and tactful person, who, in addition to being
quite attractive personally to girls, was also always most
courteous to his patrons, particularly to those whom he considered
above him in the social scale, and among these was Clyde. For
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