Читать книгу The Complete Works of F. Scott Fitzgerald онлайн

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Michael walked into the elevator.

“Down, please!” cried Marion. “Oh, I want to go down, please!”

The gate clanged shut.

They told the taxi-man to take them directly home—neither of them could have endured the theatre. Driving uptown to their apartment, Michael buried his face in his hands and tried to realize that the friendship which had meant so much to him was over. He saw now that it had been over for some time, that not once during the past year had Charley sought their company and the shock of the discovery far outweighed the affront he had received.

When they reached home, Marion, who had not said a word in the taxi, led the way into the living room and motioned for her husband to sit down.

“I’m going to tell you something that you ought to know,” she said. “If it hadn’t been for what happened tonight I’d probably never have told you—but now I think you ought to hear the whole story.” She hesitated. “In the first place, Charley Hart wasn’t a friend of yours at all.”

“What?” He looked up at her dully.