Читать книгу The Complete Works of F. Scott Fitzgerald онлайн

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“And me,” Amory interrupted, “where did you see me?”

“Oh, you’re one of those men,” she answered haughtily, “must lug old self into conversation. Well, my boy, I was behind a hedge sunning myself one day last week, and along comes a man saying in a pleasant, conceited way of talking:

“‘And now when the night was senescent’

(says he)

‘And the star dials pointed to morn

At the end of the path a liquescent’

(says he)

‘And nebulous lustre was born.’

So I poked my eyes up over the hedge, but you had started to run, for some unknown reason, and so I saw but the back of your beautiful head. ‘Oh!’ says I, ‘there’s a man for whom many of us might sigh,’ and I continued in my best Irish——”

“All right,” Amory interrupted. “Now go back to yourself.”

“Well, I will. I’m one of those people who go through the world giving other people thrills, but getting few myself except those I read into men on such nights as these. I have the social courage to go on the stage, but not the energy; I haven’t the patience to write books; and I never met a man I’d marry. However, I’m only eighteen.”