Читать книгу The Complete Works of F. Scott Fitzgerald онлайн

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This is the man whom Anthony considers his best friend. This is the only man of all his acquaintance whom he admires and, to a bigger extent than he likes to admit to himself, envies.

They are glad to see each other now—their eyes are full of kindness as each feels the full effect of novelty after a short separation. They are drawing a relaxation from each other’s presence, a new serenity; Maury Noble behind that fine and absurdly catlike face is all but purring. And Anthony, nervous as a will-o’-the-wisp, restless—he is at rest now.

They are engaged in one of those easy short-speech conversations that only men under thirty or men under great stress indulge in.

Anthony: Seven o’clock. Where’s the Caramel? (Impatiently.) I wish he’d finish that interminable novel. I’ve spent more time hungry—

Maury: He’s got a new name for it. “The Demon Lover “—not bad, eh?

Anthony: (interested) “The Demon Lover”? Oh “woman wailing”—No—not a bit bad! Not bad at all—d’you think?

Maury: Rather good. What time did you say?