Читать книгу The Complete Works of F. Scott Fitzgerald онлайн

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He looked at her and saw what she intended, beauty heightened by enthusiasm. Her lips were half parted in a smile, her hair just so slightly disarranged.

“Damned witch,” he muttered. “You used to read Tolstoy, and believe him.”

“Did I?” Her gaze wandered to the fire. “So I did, so I did.” Then her eyes came back to him and the present. “Really, Clay, we must stop gazing at the fire. It puts our minds on the past and tonight there’s got to be no past or future, no time, just tonight, you and I sitting here and I most tired for a military shoulder to rest my head upon.” But he was off on an old tack, thinking of Dick, and he spoke his thoughts aloud.

“You used to talk Tolstoy to Dick and I thought it was scandalous for such a good-looking girl to be intellectual.”

“I wasn’t, really,” she admitted. “It was to impress Dick.”

“I was shocked, too, when I read something of Tolstoy’s. I struck the something Sonata.”

“‘Kreutzer Sonata,’” she suggested.

“That’s it. I thought it was immoral for young girls to read Tolstoy and told Dick so. He used to nag me about that. I was nineteen.”