Читать книгу The Complete Works of F. Scott Fitzgerald онлайн

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John—Very well, don’t be angry. I feel mean enough already.

Helen—(Coldly) Do you?

John—Where do I come in? This is all a very clever system of yours, and you’ve played through it. You go along your way looking for another movie hero with black hair, or light hair, or red hair, and I am left with the same pair of eyes looking at me, the same lips moving in the same words to another poor fool, the next—

Helen—For Heaven sakes don’t cry!

John—Oh, I don’t give a damn what I do!

Helen—(Her eyes cast down to where her toe traces a pattern on the carpet) You are very young. You would think from the way you talk that it was my fault, that I tried not to like you.

John—Young! Oh, I’m in the discard, I know.

Helen—Oh, you’ll find someone else.

John—I don’t want anyone else.

Helen—(Scornfully) You’re making a perfect fool of yourself.

There is a silence. She idly kicks the heel of her slipper against the rung of the chair.

John—(Slowly) It’s this damn Charlie Wordsworth.

Helen—(Raising her eyes quickly) If you want to talk like that you’d better go. Please go now.