Dreiser, Theodore, 1871-1945; Journalists -- United States -- Biography; Novelists, American -- 20th century -- Biography
As for Miss Ginity, although she was conventional enough, I did feel
that she might be persuaded to relax the moral rule in favor of one at
least, and so was congratulating myself upon having achieved an
affectional triumph. She may not have been deeply impressed by my
physical attraction but there was something about me nevertheless which
seemed to hold her. After a few days she left the hotel to visit some
friends or relatives, to whom she had to pay considerable attention, but
in my box nights or mornings, if by any chance I had not seen her, I
would find notes explaining where she could be found in the evening,
usually at a drugstore near the park or her new apartment, and we would
take a few minutes’ stroll in the park. Such a fever of emotion as she
displayed at times! “Oh dear!” she would exclaim in an intense hungry
way upon seeing me. “Oh, I could hardly wait!” And once in the park she
would throw her strong young arms about me and kiss me in a fiery,
hungry way. There was one last transport the night before she left for
Michigan for a visit, when if I had been half the Don Juan I longed to
be we might have passed the boundary line; but lack of courage on my
part and inexperience on hers kept us apart.
When I saw her again in St. Louis——
But that is still another story.
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CHAPTER XLI
THUS these days sped swiftly and ecstatically by. For once in my life I
seemed to be truly and consistently happy, and that in this very city
where but a year or two before I had suffered such keen distress. Toward
the middle of the second week Miss Ginity left for Michigan, and then I
had Miss W—— all to myself. By now I had come to feel an intense
interest in her, an elation over the mere thought of being with her. In
addition to this joy my mind and body seemed to be responding in some
ecstatic fashion to Chicago and the Fair as a whole, the romance and
color of it all, the winelike quality of the air, the raw, fresh, young
force of the city, so vividly manifested in its sounding streets, its
towering new buildings, its far-flung lines of avenues and boulevards,
and, by way of contrast, its vast regions of middle and lower class
poor. When we lived here as a family I had always thought that poverty
was no great hardship. The poor were poor enough, in all conscience, but
oh, the singing hope of the city itself! Up, up, and to work! Here were
tasks for a million hands. In spite of my attachment to the Fair and
Miss Ginity and Miss W—— I was still lured cityward, to visit the
streets in which we had once lived or where I had walked so much in the
old days, mere journeys of remembrance.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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