Читать книгу The Complete Works of F. Scott Fitzgerald онлайн

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Helen—Well, I am not. I belong to myself tonight, or rather to the crowd.

John—You’ve been rotten to me this week.

Helen—Have I?

John—You’re tired of me.

Helen—No, not that. The family. (They have evidently been over this ground before.)

John—It isn’t the family, and you know it.

Helen—Well, to tell the truth, it isn’t exactly the family.

John—I know it isn’t. It’s me—and you, and I’m getting desperate. You’ve got to do something one way or the other. We are engaged, or—

Helen—Well, we are not engaged.

John—Then what are we? What do you think about me, or do you think about me? You never tell me anymore. We’re drifting apart. Please, Helen—!

Helen—It’s a funny business, John, just how I do feel.

John—It isn’t funny to me.

Helen—No, I don’t suppose it is. You know, if you just weren’t so in love with me—

John—(Gloomily) Well, I am.

Helen—You see, there is no novelty in that. I always know just what you are going to say.

John—I wish I did. When you first met me, you used to tell me that you loved to hear me talk, because you never knew what I was going to say.