Читать книгу The Complete Works of F. Scott Fitzgerald онлайн

432 страница из 1457

He called her on the ’phone one day. Yes, she remembered him perfectly; no, Monsignor wasn’t in town, was in Boston she thought; he’d promised to come to dinner when he returned. Couldn’t Amory take luncheon with her?

“I thought I’d better catch up, Mrs. Lawrence,” he said rather ambiguously when he arrived.

“Monsignor was here just last week,” said Mrs. Lawrence regretfully. “He was very anxious to see you, but he’d left your address at home.”

“Did he think I’d plunged into Bolshevism?” asked Amory, interested.

“Oh, he’s having a frightful time.”

“Why?”

“About the Irish Republic. He thinks it lacks dignity.”

“So?”

“He went to Boston when the Irish President arrived and he was greatly distressed because the receiving committee, when they rode in an automobile, would put their arms around the President.”

“I don’t blame him.”

“Well, what impressed you more than anything while you were in the army? You look a great deal older.”

“That’s from another, more disastrous battle,” he answered, smiling in spite of himself. “But the army—let me see—well, I discovered that physical courage depends to a great extent on the physical shape a man is in. I found that I was as brave as the next man—it used to worry me before.”