Читать книгу The Complete Works of F. Scott Fitzgerald онлайн

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“No. I’m romantic. There’s a huge difference. A sentimental person thinks things will last; a romantic person hopes they won’t.”

He was in a reverie again and she knew that he had hardly heard her.

“Excuse please,” she pleaded, slipping close to him. “Do be a nice boy and put your arm around me.” He put his arm gingerly about her until she began to laugh quietly. Then he hastily withdrew it and, bending forward, talked quickly at the fire.

“Will you tell me why in the name of this mad world we’re here tonight? Do you realize that this is—was a bachelor apartment before the bachelors all married the red widow over the channel—and you’ll be compromised?”

She seized the straps of his shoulder belt and tugged at him until his grey eyes looked into hers.

“Clay, Clay, don’t—you musn’t use small petty words like that at this time. Compromise! What’s that to words like Life and Love and Death and England. Compromise! Clay I don’t believe anyone uses that word except servants.” She laughed. “Clay, you and our butler are the only men in England who use the word compromise. My maid and I have been warned within a week—How odd—Clay, look at me.”