Читать книгу The Complete Works of F. Scott Fitzgerald онлайн

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“Du vaah,” said Jim to the waiter. He was a little disappointed when the answer came in English. After the man went for the wine he took out his two war medals and pinned them to his coat. The waiter returned with the wine, seemed not to notice the medals, made no remark. Milly wished Jim hadn’t put them on—she felt vaguely ashamed.

After another glass of wine it was time for the train. They got into the strange little third-class carriage, an engine that was out of some boy’s playroom began to puff and, in a pleasant informal way, jogged them leisurely south through the friendly lived-over land.

“What are we going to do first when we get there?” asked Milly.

“First?” Jim looked at her abstractedly and frowned. “Why, first I got to see about the job, see?” The exhilaration of the wine had passed and left him surly. “What do you want to ask so many questions for? Buy yourself a guidebook, why don’t you?”

Milly felt a slight sinking of the heart—he hadn’t grumbled at her like this since the trip was first proposed.