Читать книгу The Complete Works of F. Scott Fitzgerald онлайн

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“Lunch is ready,” called Alice, raising her head with an expression of relief. “John’s going to be with us too.”

“I can’t,” said John Jackson quickly. “You’re both very kind.”

“Better stay.” Harland, in oily overalls, sank down wearily on the steps and with a large handkerchief polished the hot space beneath his thin grey hair. “We can give you some iced tea.” He looked up at John. “I don’t know whether these hot days make you feel your age like I feel mine.”

“I guess—it affects all of us alike,” said John Jackson with an effort. “The awful part of it is that I’ve got to go back to the city this afternoon.”

“Really?” Harland nodded with polite regret.

“Why, yes. The fact is I promised to make a speech.”

“Is that so? Speak on some city problem, I suppose.”

“No; the fact is”—the words, forming in his mind to a senseless rhythm, pushed themselves out—“I’m going to speak on What Have I Got Out of Life.”

Then he became conscious of the heat indeed; and still wearing that smile he knew so well how to muster, he felt himself sway dizzily against the porch rail. After a minute they were walking with him toward the gate.