Part III

NEXT EVENING while he waited for her to come down-stairs, Dexter peopled the soft deep summer room and the sun-porch that opened from it with the men who had already loved Judy Jones. He knew the sort of men they were--the men who when he first went to college had entered from the great prep schools with graceful clothes and the deep tan of healthy summers. He had seen that, in one sense, he was better than these men. He was newer and stronger. Yet in acknowledging to himself that he wished his children to be like them he was admitting that he was but the rough, strong stuff from which they eternally sprang. When the time had come for him to wear good clothes, he had known who were the best tailors in America, and the best tailors in America had made him the suit he wore this evening. He had acquired that particular reserve peculiar to his university, that set it off from other universities. He recognized the value to him of such a mannerism and he had adopted it; he knew that to be careless in dress and manner required more confidence than to be careful. But carelessness was for his children. His mother's name had been Krimslich. She was a Bohemian of the peasant class and she had talked broken English to the end of her days. Her son must keep to the set patterns.

At a little after seven Judy Jones came down-stairs. She wore a blue silk afternoon dress, and he was disappointed at first that she had not put on something more elaborate. This feeling was accentuated when, after a brief greeting, she went to the door of a butler's pantry and pushing it open called: "You can serve dinner, Martha." He had rather expected that a butler would announce dinner, that there would be a cocktail. Then he put these thoughts behind him as they sat down side by side on a lounge and looked at each other.

"Father and mother won't be here," she said thoughtfully.

He remembered the last time he had seen her father, and he was glad the parents were not to be here to-night--they might wonder who he was. He had been born in Keeble, a Minnesota village fifty miles farther north, and he always gave Keeble as his home instead of Black Bear Village. Country towns were well enough to come from if they weren't inconveniently in sight and used as footstools by fashionable lakes.

They talked of his university, which she had visited frequently during the past two years, and of the near-by city which supplied Sherry Island with its patrons, and whither Dexter would return next day to his prospering laundries.

During dinner she slipped into a moody depression which gave Dexter a feeling of uneasiness. Whatever petulance she uttered in her throaty voice worried him. Whatever she smiled at--at him, at a chicken liver, at nothing--it disturbed him that her smile could have no root in mirth, or even in amusement. When the scarlet corners of her lips curved down, it was less a smile than an invitation to a kiss.

Then, after dinner, she led him out on the dark sun-porch and deliberately changed the atmosphere.

"Do you mind if I weep a little?" she said.

"I'm afraid I'm boring you," he responded quickly.

"You're not. I like you. But I've just had a terrible afternoon. There was a man I cared about, and this afternoon he told me out of a clear sky that he was poor as a church-mouse. He'd never even hinted it before. Does this sound horribly mundane?"

"Perhaps he was afraid to tell you."

"Suppose he was," she answered. "He didn't start right. You see, if I'd thought of him as poor--well, I've been mad about loads of poor men, and fully intended to marry them all. But in this case, I hadn't thought of him that way, and my interest in him wasn't strong enough to survive the shock. As if a girl calmly informed her fiance that she was a widow. He might not object to widows, but----

"Let's start right," she interrupted herself suddenly. "Who are you, anyhow?"

For a moment Dexter hesitated. Then:

"I'm nobody," he announced. "My career is largely a matter of futures."

"Are you poor?"

"No," he said frankly, "I'm probably making more money than any man my age in the Northwest. I know that's an obnoxious remark, but you advised me to start right."

There was a pause. Then she smiled and the corners of her mouth drooped and an almost imperceptible sway brought her closer to him, looking up into his eyes. A lump rose in Dexter's throat, and he waited breathless for the experiment, facing the unpredictable compound that would form mysteriously from the elements of their lips. Then he saw--she communicated her excitement to him, lavishly, deeply, with kisses that were not a promise but a fulfillment. They aroused in him not hunger demanding renewal but surfeit that would demand more surfeit . . . kisses that were like charity, creating want by holding back nothing at all.

It did not take him many hours to decide that he had wanted Judy Jones ever since he was a proud, desirous little boy.


  1. The passage reflects Dexter’s longing for class ascension, even as a boy. It also suggests that at their first meeting, Judy represented the wealthy upper class for Dexter. When he met Judy years later in the romantic atmosphere on the lake, she had become the embodiment of all his romantic dreams of wealth, beauty, glamour, and excitement; it is what Judy represents to Dexter, rather than Judy herself, that he has wanted all his life.

    — Owl Eyes Editors
  2. “Surfeit” means an excess, overabundance, or the state of being more than full. In context, it emphasizes the passion of Judy’s kisses and Dexter’s emotional response to them.

    — Owl Eyes Editors
  3. The noun “futures” may refer to Dexter’s expectation of his career advancing in the future. He may also be referring to the stock market term “futures,” or “futures market,” which is a financial transaction wherein people contract to purchase a specific quantity of commodities or assets for a predetermined price at a specified date in the future. He explains to Judy that although he is “‘nobody,’” he has future prospects.

    — Owl Eyes Editors
  4. Wearing lipstick the color of scarlet, Judy is again associated with the pink color motif in the story.

    — Owl Eyes Editors
  5. The passage also echoes the description of Judy’s smile when Dexter first met her: “blatantly artificial.” Judy’s character traits seem to have been set when she was a child and have not changed.

    — Owl Eyes Editors
  6. “Petulance” refers to being childishly sulky or irritated, suggesting that Judy still displays the behavior Dexter first observed in her when he was a fourteen-year-old caddy at the Sherry Island Golf Club.

    — Owl Eyes Editors
  7. In context, “accentuated” means increased in intensity. Dexter’s disappointment about Judy’s simple attire is intensified when she, rather than a butler, announces that dinner could now be served. Dexter’s illusions about having dinner at Mortimer Jones’s fine home prove to be unrealistic.

    — Owl Eyes Editors
  8. In keeping with the color motif in the story, Judy is again dressed in blue.

    — Owl Eyes Editors
  9. In context, “reserve” refers to dress or behavior that is understated and subdued. The adjective “peculiar” refers to distinctive qualities or characteristics associated with a particular group, person, or place. In an effort to impress others, Dexter is practicing a mannerism that associates him with the elite Eastern university he attended.

    — Owl Eyes Editors
  10. Dexter’s conflicting feelings regarding the upper class with its generations of inherited wealth—“old money”—reflect the class divide in American society that is introduced at the beginning of the story and developed throughout the text. Dexter is “newer and stronger” than the privileged young men of the upper class in that he will build his own fortune; however, as an outsider, he still admires and romanticizes the upper class and hopes that his children will rise above his social station.

    — Owl Eyes Editors
  11. The verb “to people” means to inhabit or to supply a place with inhabitants. Though Dexter enters “the soft deep summer room” as one person, he in effect joins the men who came before him in the room. He joins the group of adoring, frustrated suitors who had loved Judy Jones in the past.

    — Owl Eyes Editors