An American Tragedy Theodore Dreiser (whitelam books .TXT) 📖

“Very much.”

“And was she as much in love with you at that time?”

“Yes, sir, she was.”

“From the very first?”

“From the very first.”

“She told you so?”

“Yes, sir.”

“At the time she left the Newtons⁠—you have heard all the testimony here in regard to that⁠—did you induce or seek to induce her in any way, by any trick or agreement, to leave there?”

“No, sir, I didn’t. She wanted to leave there of her own accord. She wanted me to help her find a place.”

“She wanted you to help her find a place?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And just why?”

“Because she didn’t know the city very well and she thought maybe I could tell her where there was a nice room she could get⁠—one that she could afford.”

“And did you tell her about the room she took at the Gilpins’?”

“No, sir, I didn’t. I never told her about any room. She found it herself.” (This was the exact answer he had memorized.)

“But why didn’t you help her?”

“Because I was busy, days and most evenings. And besides I thought she knew better what she wanted than I did⁠—the kind of people and all.”

“Did you personally ever see the Gilpin place before she went there?”

“No, sir.”

“Ever have any discussion with her before she moved there as to the kind of a room she was to take⁠—its position as regards to entrance, exit, privacy, or anything of that sort?”

“No, sir, I never did.”

“Never insisted, for instance, that she take a certain type of room which you could slip in and out of at night or by day without being seen?”

“I never did. Besides, no one could very well slip in or out of that house without being seen.”

“And why not?”

“Because the door to her room was right next to the door to the general front entrance where everybody went in and out and anybody that was around could see.” That was another answer he had memorized.

“But you slipped in and out, didn’t you?”

“Well, yes, sir⁠—that is, we both decided from the first that the less we were seen together anywhere, the better.”

“On account of that factory rule?”

“Yes, sir⁠—on account of that factory rule.”

And then the story of his various difficulties with Roberta, due to Miss X coming into his life.

“Now, Clyde, we will have to go into the matter of this Miss X a little. Because of an agreement between the defense and the prosecution which you gentlemen of the jury fully understand, we can only touch on this incidentally, since it all concerns an entirely innocent person whose real name can be of no service here anyhow. But some of the facts must be touched upon, although we will deal with them as light as possible, as much for the sake of the innocent living as the worthy dead. And I am sure Miss Alden would have it so if she were alive. But now in regard to Miss X,” he continued, turning to Clyde, “it is already agreed by both sides that you met her in Lycurgus some time in November or December of last year. That is correct, is it not?”

“Yes, sir, that is correct,” replied Clyde, sadly.

“And that at once you fell very much in love with her?”

“Yes, sir. That’s true.”

“She was rich?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Beautiful?”

“I believe it is admitted by all that she is,” he said to the court in general without requiring or anticipating a reply from Clyde, yet the latter, so thoroughly drilled had he been, now replied: “Yes, sir.”

“Had you two⁠—yourself and Miss Alden, I mean⁠—at that time when you first met Miss X already established that illicit relationship referred to?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, now, in view of all that⁠—but no, one moment, there is something else I want to ask you first⁠—now, let me see⁠—at the time that you first met this Miss X you were still in love with Roberta Alden, were you⁠—or were you not?”

“I was still in love with her⁠—yes, sir.”

“You had not, up to that time at least, in any way become weary of her? Or had you?”

“No, sir. I had not.”

“Her love and her companionship were just as precious and delightful to you as ever?”

“Yes, sir, they were.”

And as Clyde said that, he was thinking back and it seemed to him that what he had just said was really true. It was true that just before meeting Sondra he was actually at the zenith of content and delight with Roberta.

“And what, if any, were your plans for your future with Miss Alden⁠—before you met this Miss X? You must have thought at times of that, didn’t you?”

“Well, not exactly,” (and as he said this he licked his lips in sheer nervousness). “You see, I never had any real plan to do anything⁠—that is, to do anything that wasn’t quite right with her. And neither did she, of course. We just drifted kinda, from the first. It was being alone there so much, maybe. She hadn’t taken up with anybody yet and I hadn’t either. And then there was that rule that kept me from taking her about anywhere, and once we were together, of course we just went on without thinking very much about it, I suppose⁠—either of us.”

“You just drifted because nothing had happened as yet and you didn’t suppose anything would. Is that the way?”

“No, sir. I mean, yes, sir. That’s the way it was.” Clyde was very eager to get those much-rehearsed and very important answers, just right.

“But you must have thought of something⁠—one or both of you. You were twenty-one and she was twenty-three.”

“Yes, sir. I suppose we did⁠—I suppose I did think of something now and then.”

“And what was it that you thought? Can you recollect?”

“Well, yes, sir. I suppose I can. That is, I know that I did think at times that if things went all right and I made a little more money and she got a place somewhere else, that I would begin taking her out openly, and then afterwards maybe, if she and I kept on