Читать книгу The Complete Works of F. Scott Fitzgerald онлайн

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A look of sincere surprise passed over Charley’s face.

“Are you mad at me about that?” he asked in a puzzled way. “I thought you were mad because I didn’t come to your party.”

Michael did not answer.

“I supposed she’d told you about that long ago,” went on Charley. “I couldn’t help it about Marion. I was lonesome and you two had each other. Every time I went to your house you’d tell me what a wonderful girl Marion was and finally I—I began to agree with you. How could I help falling in love with her, when for a year and a half she was the only decent girl I knew?” He looked defiantly at Michael. “Well, you’ve got her, haven’t you. I didn’t take her away. I never so much as kissed her—do you have to rub it in?”

“Look here,” said Michael sharply, “just why should I lend you this money.”

“Well—” Charley hesitated, laughed uneasily, “I don’t know any exact reason. I just thought you would.”

“Why should I?”

“No reason at all, I suppose, from your way of looking at it.”

“That’s the trouble. If I gave it to you it would just be because I was slushy and soft. I’d be doing something that I don’t want to do.”