Читать книгу The Lost Weekend онлайн

24 страница из 46

Gloria was there, her hand on his shoulder. He turned, startled.

"Why don't you come sit down and eat something with me? I'm going to eat now."

"Why? What's the time?"

"Quarter past."

"Five?"

"Six."

"I've got a--dinner engagement. Sorry." In a moment he was gone, in panic to be home before Wick.

At the corner he stopped in the liquor store to buy a pint. He pretended to deliberate a moment, considering the various brands, knowing all the while he would buy the bottle that was just under a dollar as he always did, no matter how much money he had in his pocket; for he had a dread of running out of cash and being cut off from drink and so bought only the cheapest, to make it last. Liquor was all one anyway. He scanned the shelves, self-conscious as always in a liquor store--he could never overcome the idea that he had no right to be there, that the clerks and customers were eyeing him and nodding to each other ("Sure, look who's here, wouldn't you know"), and he envied with a jealous envy those who could come into a liquor store and buy a bottle with the nonchalant detachment of a housewife choosing her morning groceries. He pointed to the brand he wanted and put down a dollar bill.