Читать книгу The Complete Works of F. Scott Fitzgerald онлайн

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Rosalind: Oh, we can’t. I’d be your squaw—in some horrible place.

Amory: We’ll have two hundred and seventy-five dollars a month all told.

Rosalind: Darling, I don’t even do my own hair, usually.

Amory: I’ll do it for you.

Rosalind: (Between a laugh and a sob) Thanks.

Amory: Rosalind, you can’t be thinking of marrying some one else. Tell me! You leave me in the dark. I can help you fight it out if you’ll only tell me.

Rosalind: It’s just—us. We’re pitiful, that’s all. The very qualities I love you for are the ones that will always make you a failure.

Amory: (Grimly) Go on.

Rosalind: Oh—it is Dawson Ryder. He’s so reliable, I almost feel that he’d be a—a background.

Amory: You don’t love him.

Rosalind: I know, but I respect him, and he’s a good man and a strong one.

Amory: (Grudgingly) Yes—he’s that.

Rosalind: Well—here’s one little thing. There was a little poor boy we met in Rye Tuesday afternoon—and, oh, Dawson took him on his lap and talked to him and promised him an Indian suit—and next day he remembered and bought it—and, oh, it was so sweet and I couldn’t help thinking he’d be so nice to—to our children—take care of them—and I wouldn’t have to worry.