And the young girls and boys that he met there — girls and boys of the Ratterer, Hegglund, Hortense stripe — were still of the very substance and texture of that energy, ease and forwardness which he would have given his soul to possess.
And curiously enough, in spite of a certain nervousness on his part, he was by reason of his new companions made an integral part of the gayeties.
And on this occasion he was destined to view a type of girl and youth in action such as previously it had not been his fortune or misfortune, as you will, to see.
There was, for instance, a type of sensual dancing which Louise and Hortense and Greta indulged in with the greatest nonchalance and assurance.
At the same time, many of these youths carried whisky in a hip flask, from which they not only drank themselves, but gave others to drink — boys and girls indiscriminately.
And the general hilarity for this reason being not a little added to, they fell into more intimate relations — spooning with one and another — Hortense and Louise and Greta included.
Also to quarreling at times.
And it appeared to be nothing out of the ordinary, as Clyde saw, for one youth or another to embrace a girl behind a door, to hold her on his lap in a chair in some secluded corner, to lie with her on a sofa, whispering intimate and unquestionably welcome things to her.
And although at no time did he espy Hortense doing this — still, as he saw, she did not hesitate to sit on the laps of various boys or to whisper with rivals behind doors.
And this for a time so discouraged and at the same time incensed him that he felt he could not and would not have anything more to do with her — she was too cheap, vulgar, inconsiderate.
At the same time, having partaken of the various drinks offered him — so as not to seem less worldly wise than the others — until brought to a state of courage and daring not ordinarily characteristic of him, he ventured to half plead with and at the same time half reproach her for her too lax conduct.
“You’re a flirt, you are.
You don’t care who you jolly, do you?”
This as they were dancing together after one o’clock to the music of a youth named Wilkens, at the none too toneful piano. She was attempting to show him a new step in a genial and yet coquettish way, and with an amused, sensuous look.
“What do you mean, flirt?
I don’t get you.”
“Oh, don’t you?” replied Clyde, a little crossly and still attempting to conceal his real mood by a deceptive smile.
“I’ve heard about you.
You jolly ’em all.”
“Oh, do I?” she replied quite irritably.
“Well, I haven’t tried to jolly you very much, have I?”
“Well, now, don’t get mad,” he half pleaded and half scolded, fearing, perhaps, that he had ventured too far and might lose her entirely now.
“I don’t mean anything by it.
You don’t deny that you let a lot of these fellows make love to you.
They seem to like you, anyway.”
“Oh, well, of course they like me, I guess.
I can’t help that, can I?”
“Well, I’ll tell you one thing,” he blurted boastfully and passionately. “I could spend a lot more on you than they could.
I got it.”
He had been thinking only the moment before of fifty-five dollars in bills that snuggled comfortably in his pocket.
“Oh, I don’t know,” she retorted, not a little intrigued by this cash offer, as it were, and at the same time not a little set up in her mood by the fact that she could thus inflame nearly all youths in this way.
She was really a little silly, very lightheaded, who was infatuated by her own charms and looked in every mirror, admiring her eyes, her hair, her neck, her hands, her figure, and practising a peculiarly fetching smile.
At the same time, she was not unaffected by the fact that Clyde was not a little attractive to look upon, although so very green.
She liked to tease such beginners.
He was a bit of a fool, as she saw him.
But he was connected with the Green–Davidson, and he was well-dressed, and no doubt he had all the money he said and would spend it on her.
Some of those whom she liked best did not have much money to spend.
“Lots of fellows with money would like to spend it on me.”
She tossed her head and flicked her eyes and repeated her coyest smile.
At once Clyde’s countenance darkened.
The witchery of her look was too much for him.
The skin of his forehead crinkled and then smoothed out.
His eyes burned lustfully and bitterly, his old resentment of life and deprivation showing.
No doubt all she said was true.
There were others who had more and would spend more.
He was boasting and being ridiculous and she was laughing at him.
After a moment, he added, weakly,
“I guess that’s right, too.
But they couldn’t want you more than I do.”
The uncalculated honesty of it flattered her not a little.