The Essential Writings of Theodore Dreiser. Theodore Dreiser
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In consequence he now looked at Roberta in an extremely sober manner. By no means, he now said to himself, must he allow himself to become emotionally or otherwise involved here. And so in order to help himself as well as her to attain and maintain a balance which would permit of both extricating themselves without too much trouble, he drew toward him his black leather case record book and, opening it, said: “Now, let’s see if we can’t find out what the trouble is here. What is your name?”
“Ruth Howard. Mrs. Howard,” replied Roberta nervously and tensely, at once fixing upon a name which Clyde had suggested for her use. And now, interestingly enough, at mention of the fact that she was married, he breathed easier. But why the tears then? What reason could a young married woman have for being so intensely shy and nervous?
“And your husband’s first name?” he went on.
As simple as the question was, and as easy as it should have been to answer, Roberta nevertheless hesitated before she could bring herself to say: “Gifford,” her older brother’s name.
“You live around her, I presume?”
“In Fonda.”
“Yes. And how old are you?”
“Twenty-two.”
“How long have you been married?”
This inquiry being so intimately connected with the problem before her, she again hesitated before saying, “Let me see — three months.”
At once Dr. Glenn became dubious again, though he gave her no sign. Her hesitancy arrested him. Why the uncertainty? He was wondering now again whether he was dealing with a truthful girl or whether his first suspicions were being substantiated. In consequence he now asked: “Well, now what seems to be the trouble, Mrs. Howard? You need have no hesitancy in telling me — none whatsoever. I am used to such things year in and out, whatever they are. That is my business, listening to the troubles of people.”
“Well,” began Roberta, nervously once more, this terrible confession drying her throat and thickening her tongue almost, while once more she turned the same button of her coat and gazed at the floor. “It’s like this . . . You see . . . my husband hasn’t much money . . . and I have to work to help out with expenses and neither of us make so very much.” (She was astonishing herself with her own shameful power to lie in this instance — she, who had always hated to lie.) “So . . . of course . . . we can’t afford to . . . to have . . . well, any . . . children, you see, so soon, anyhow, and . . .”
She paused, her breath catching, and really unable to proceed further with this wholesale lying.
The doctor realizing from this, as he thought, what the true problem was — that she was a newly-married girl who was probably faced by just such a problem as she was attempting to outline — yet not wishing to enter upon any form of malpractice and at the same time not wishing to appear too discouraging to a young couple just starting out in life, gazed at her somewhat more sympathetically, the decidedly unfortunate predicament of these young people, as well as her appropriate modesty in the face of such a conventionally delicate situation, appealing to him. It was too bad. Young people these days did have a rather hard time of it, getting started in some cases, anyhow. And they were no doubt faced by some pressing financial situations. Nearly all young people were. Nevertheless, this business of a contraceptal operation or interference with the normal or God-arranged life processes, well, that was a ticklish and unnatural business at best which he wanted as little as possible to do with. Besides, young, healthy people, even though poor, when they undertook marriage, knew what they were about. And it was not impossible for them to work, the husband anyhow, and hence manage in some way.
And now straightening himself around in his chair very soberly and authoritatively, he began: “I think I understand what you want to say to me, Mrs. Howard. But I’m also wondering if you have considered what a very serious and dangerous thing it is you have in mind. But,” he added, suddenly, another thought as to whether his own reputation in this community was in any way being tarnished by rumor of anything he had done in the past coming to him, “just how did you happen to come to me, anyhow?”
Something about the tone of his voice, the manner in which he asked the question — the caution of it as well as the possibly impending resentment in case it should turn out that any one suspected him of a practice of this sort — caused Roberta to hesitate and to feel that any statement to the effect that she had heard of or been sent by any one else — Clyde to the contrary notwithstanding — might be dangerous. Perhaps she had better not say that she had been sent by any one. He might resent it as an insult to his character as a reputable physician. A budding instinct for diplomacy helped her in this instance, and she replied: “I’ve noticed your sign in passing several times and I’ve heard different people say you were a good doctor.”
His uncertainty allayed, he now continued: “In the first place, the thing you want done is something my conscience would not permit me to advise. I understand, of course, that you consider it necessary. You and your husband are both young and you probably haven’t very much money to go on, and you both feel that an interruption of this kind will be a great strain in every way. And no doubt it will be. Still, as I see it, marriage is a very sacred thing, and children are a blessing — not a curse. And when you went to the altar three months ago you were probably not unaware that you might have to face just such a situation as this. All young married people are, I think.” (“The altar,” thought Roberta sadly. If only it were so.) “Now I know that the tendency of the day in some quarters is very much in this direction, I am sorry to say. There are those who feel it quite all right if they can shirk the normal