United States -- Social life and customs -- 20th century -- Fiction; Women college students -- Fiction
“I’ve thought it all over—I don’t know how many times—and I’ve thought
it out. To go in back of the fact that I misjudged you—I misjudged
Jerry and Sarah. Because we could act as freely at the apartment as
though we were at our club—because they were on their own—and because
you were with them, and on your own,—I thought—well, I didn’t quite
think so at that—until I was drunk—and then I didn’t think at all.”
Insensibly they had retreated still farther from the crowd, and now
stood in a muddy corner quite alone.
“I was in love with you, Joy, as much as I could ever be. I—I still am,
I guess. It—seems to feel that way. I was always trying to puzzle out
your status—just where you stood in the Jerry-Sarah household. But I
didn’t understand, and so I lost you.”
“You—you needn’t blame yourself so, for not understanding,” said Joy;
“almost anyone might have—I can see that now.”
“No—not any one who recognizes that we’re doing transitional stuff
these days. I was coasting around on last century’s roller skates. They
just hit the surface. Now they’re using ice skates, that go in a little.
Oh, I’ve thought this all out—and got _my_ ice skates!”
“What?” she faltered.
“Why, you know. We all know. Last century—no matter what men were—they
_were all that women had_—so they took them and made the best of it.
Now—no matter what the women of to-day are making of themselves—and a
lot of women don’t exactly know _what_ they’re making of
themselves—they’re all men have—and _we_’re certainly not going to
make the worst of it.”
Joy thought. This was a mean between the extremes of the discussion held
at Fennelly’s between Greg and the two Princeton men. “Then you think
it’s working around——”
“Yes—not in this generation, but eventually—things have got to work
round to a better basis. Bye and bye the world’ll get straightened
out—and it won’t go back to last century’s roller skates to do it,
either. It takes time, and costs a lot on the way—it cost me
you—anyway, it cost me an even chance for you.” He looked down at her
serious face and quoted lightly—
“Might she have loved me? Just as well
She might have hated me, who can tell.
Where had I been now had the worst befell?
“Meanwhile—here we are sopping up the rain at Class Day—she and I!”
“Here I am keeping you from reuning with your class, you mean,” Joy
supplemented. “I must say good-bye and let you go back. I can’t tell you
how glad I am to have seen you now, Packy—to be able to remember you
like this——”
“Then—then I can’t see you again,” he stated, in a quiet voice.
“It—wouldn’t do much good—would it?”
He bowed. At a distance, it looked like a casual leavetaking between two
as casual acquaintances. “I—suppose not. Good-bye, Joy!” He took her
hand for the briefest fraction of a clasp, and left her.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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