Читать книгу The Complete Works of F. Scott Fitzgerald онлайн

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“I was afraid he’d work on your sentiment and make a fool of you,” went on Marion. She hesitated. “He hated you, you know. He used to wish you’d die. I told him that if he ever said so to me again I’d never see him anymore.”

Michael looked up at her darkly.

“In fact, you were very noble.”

“Why, Michael—”

“You let him say things like that to you—and then when he comes here, down and out, without a friend in the world to turn to, you say you’re glad I sent him away.”

“It’s because I love you, dear—”

“No it isn’t!” he interrupted savagely. “It’s because hate’s cheap in this world. Everybody’s got it for sale. My God! What do you suppose I think of myself now?”

“He’s not worth feeling that way about.”

“Please go away!” cried Michael passionately. “I want to be alone.”

Obediently she left him and he sat down again in the darkness of the porch, a sort of terror creeping over him. Several times he made a motion to get up but each time he frowned and remained motionless. Then after another long while he jumped suddenly to his feet, cold sweat starting from his forehead. The last hour, the months just passed, were washed away and he was swept years back in time. Why, they were after Charley Hart, his old friend. Charley Hart who had come to him because he had no other place to go. Michael began to run hastily about the porch in a daze, hunting for his hat and coat.