Читать книгу The Complete Works of F. Scott Fitzgerald онлайн

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“Dear Mr. Jackson: This is just a reminder that you have consented to speak at our annual meeting Thursday. We don’t want to dictate your choice of a topic, but it has occurred to me that it would be interesting to hear from you on What Have I Got Out of Life. Coming from you this should be an inspiration to everyone.

“We are delighted to have you anyhow, and we appreciate the honor that you confer on us by coming at all.

“Most cordially yours,

“Anthony Roreback, “Sec. Civic Welfare League.”

“What have I got out of life?” repeated John Jackson aloud, raising up his head.

He wanted no more breakfast, so he picked up both letters and went out on his wide front porch to smoke a cigar and lie about for a lazy half-hour before he went downtown. He had done this each morning for ten years—ever since his wife ran off one windy night and gave him back the custody of his leisure hours. He loved to rest on this porch in the fresh warm mornings and through a porthole in the green vines watch the automobiles pass along the street, the widest, shadiest, pleasantest street in town.