Читать книгу The Complete Works of F. Scott Fitzgerald онлайн

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Dalyrimple started at this repetition of a phrase he had thought of so much lately. There was a sudden ring at the door-bell.

“That’s Macy now,” observed Fraser, rising. “I’ll go let him in. The servants have gone to bed.”

He left Dalyrimple there in a dream. The world was opening up suddenly—The State Senate, the United States Senate—so life was this after all—cutting corners—cutting corners—common sense, that was the rule. No more foolish risks now unless necessity called—but it was being hard that counted—Never to let remorse or self-reproach lose him a night’s sleep—let his life be a sword of courage—there was no payment—all that was drivel—drivel.

He sprang to his feet with clinched hands in a sort of triumph.

“Well, Bryan,” said Mr. Macy stepping through the portières.

The two older men smiled their half-smiles at him.

“Well, Bryan,” said Mr. Macy again.

Dalyrimple smiled also.

“How do, Mr. Macy?”

He wondered if some telepathy between them had made this new appreciation possible—some invisible realization….