One night late he took her to the Eldorado and persuaded her to drink champagne, thinking this would forward his purpose. The wine made her rosy and pretty, and it also made her forget her poses and affectations. She was more charming to him than ever before, partly because of the change in her, and partly because his own critical faculties were blunted by alcohol. He was almost in love with her and he felt sure that he was about to win her. But presently she began wheedling him in the old vein. She wanted him to take her to the dance at the Woman’s Club!
This would be to slap convention in the face, [pg 220] and at first he refused to consider it. But he foolishly went on drinking, and the more he drank the more feasible the thing appeared. Dora had quit drinking and was pleading with him.
“I dare you!” she told him. “You’re afraid.… You don’t think I’m good enough for you.… And yet you say you love me.… I’m just as good as any girl in this town.… Well if you won’t, I’m going home. I’m through! I thought you really cared.”
And then, when he had persuaded her not to run away, she became sad and just a little tearful.
“It’s terrible,” she confided. “Just because I have to make my own living.… [It’s] not fair. I ought never to speak to you again.… And yet, I do care for you.…”
Ramon was touched. The pathos of her situation appealed strongly to his tipsy consciousness. Why not do it? After all, the girl was respectable. As she said, nobody “had anything on her.” The dance was a public affair. Any one could go. He had been too timid. Not three people there knew who she was. By God, he would do it!
At first they did not attract much attention. Dora was pretty and fairly well dressed, in no way conspicuous. They danced exclusively with each other, as did some other couples present, and nothing was thought of that.
But soon he became aware of glances, hostile, disapproving. Probably it was true that only a few of the men at first knew who Dora was, but they told other men, and some of the men told the women. Soon it was known to all that he had brought “one of those awful eating house girls” to the dance! The enormity of the mistake he had made was borne in upon him gradually. Some of the men he knew smiled at him, generally with an eye-brow raised, or with a shake of the head. Sidney Felberg, who was a real friend, took him aside.
“For the love of God, Ramon, what did you bring that Flusey here for? You’re queering yourself at a mile a minute. And you’re drunk, too. For Heaven’s sake, cart her away while the going’s good!”
Ramon had not realized how drunk he was until he heard this warning.