I don’t know her but I’ve always heard she keeps such a nice, refined place.
Mr. Parsley, who lives here with her, used to go to school with me. But I don’t see much of him any more.
Did you meet him yet?”
“No, I didn’t,” said Clyde in return.
“Well, you know, we expected you last Sunday to dinner, only Walter had to go home.
But you must come soon.
Any time at all.
I would love to have you.”
She beamed and her small grayish brown eyes twinkled.
Clyde could see that because of the fame of his uncle he was looked upon as a social find, really.
And so it was with the remainder of this company, old and young — the Rev. Peter Isreals and his wife; Mr. Micah Bumpus, a local vendor of printing inks, and his wife and son; Mr. and Mrs. Maximilian Pick, Mr. Pick being a wholesale and retail dealer in hay, grain and feed; Mr. Witness, a florist, and Mrs. Throop, a local real estate dealer.
All knew Samuel Griffiths and his family by reputation and it seemed not a little interesting and strange to all of them that Clyde, a real nephew of so rich a man, should be here in their midst.
The only trouble with this was that Clyde’s manner was very soft and not as impressive as it should be — not so aggressive and contemptuous. And most of them were of that type of mind that respects insolence even where it pretends to condemn it.
In so far as the young girls were concerned, it was even more noticeable.
For Dillard was making this important relationship of Clyde’s perfectly plain to every one.
“This is Clyde Griffiths, the nephew of Samuel Griffiths, Mr. Gilbert Griffiths’ cousin, you know.
He’s just come on here to study the collar business in his uncle’s factory.”
And Clyde, who realized how shallow was this pretense, was still not a little pleased and impressed by the effect of it all.
This Dillard’s effrontery.
The brassy way in which, because of Clyde, he presumed to patronize these people.
On this occasion, he kept guiding Clyde here and there, refusing for the most part to leave him alone for an instant.
In fact he was determined that all whom he knew and liked among the girls and young men should know who and what Clyde was and that he was presenting him.
Also that those whom he did not like should see as little of him as possible — not be introduced at all.
“She don’t amount to anything.
Her father only keeps a small garage here.
I wouldn’t bother with her if I were you.”
Or,
“He isn’t much around here. Just a clerk in our store.”
At the same time, in regard to some others, he was all smiles and compliments, or at worst apologetic for their social lacks.
And then he was introduced to Zella Shuman and Rita Dickerman, who, for reasons of their own, not the least among which was a desire to appear a little wise and more sophisticated than the others here, came a little late.
And it was true, as Clyde was to find out afterwards, that they were different, too — less simple and restricted than quite all of the girls whom Dillard had thus far introduced him to.
They were not as sound religiously and morally as were these others.
And as even Clyde noted on meeting them, they were as keen for as close an approach to pagan pleasure without admitting it to themselves, as it was possible to be and not be marked for what they were.
And in consequence, there was something in their manner, the very spirit of the introduction, which struck him as different from the tone of the rest of this church group — not exactly morally or religiously unhealthy but rather much freer, less repressed, less reserved than were these others.
“Oh, so you’re Mr. Clyde Griffiths,” observed Zella Shuman.
“My, you look a lot like your cousin, don’t you?
I see him driving down Central Avenue ever so often.
Walter has been telling us all about you.
Do you like Lycurgus?”
The way she said
“Walter,” together with something intimate and possessive in the tone of her voice, caused Clyde to feel at once that she must feel rather closer to and freer with Dillard than he himself had indicated.
A small scarlet bow of velvet ribbon at her throat, two small garnet earrings in her ears, a very trim and tight-fitting black dress, with a heavily flounced skirt, seemed to indicate that she was not opposed to showing her figure, and prized it, a mood which except for a demure and rather retiring poise which she affected, would most certainly have excited comment in such a place as this.
Rita Dickerman, on the other hand, was lush and blonde, with pink cheeks, light chestnut hair, and bluish gray eyes. Lacking the aggressive smartness which characterized Zella Shuman, she still radiated a certain something which to Clyde seemed to harmonize with the liberal if secret mood of her friend.
Her manner, as Clyde could see, while much less suggestive of masked bravado was yielding and to him designedly so, as well as naturally provocative.
It had been arranged that she was to intrigue him.
Very much fascinated by Zella Shuman and in tow of her, they were inseparable.
And when Clyde was introduced to her, she beamed upon him in a melting and sensuous way which troubled him not a little.
For here in Lycurgus, as he was telling himself at the time, he must be very careful with whom he became familiar.
And yet, unfortunately, as in the case of Hortense Briggs, she evoked thoughts of intimacy, however unproblematic or distant, which troubled him.
But he must be careful.