Читать книгу The Complete Works of F. Scott Fitzgerald онлайн
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“You never will, I hope.”
They had reached the side drive and he hailed her a taxi-cab.
“You’re an angel!” beamed Myra. “And I can’t thank you enough.”
“Well, anytime I can be of use t-to you—— By the way, what are you going to do with all the rings?”
Myra looked laughingly at her hand.
“That’s the question,” she said. “I may send them to Lady Helena Something-or-Other—and—well, I’ve always had a strong penchant for souvenirs. Tell the driver ‘Biltmore,’ Walter.”
— ◆ —
The Smilers.
(The Smart Set, June 1920)
I
We all have that exasperated moment!
There are times when you almost tell the harmless old lady next door what you really think of her face—that it ought to be on a night-nurse in a house for the blind; when you’d like to ask the man you’ve been waiting ten minutes for if he isn’t all overheated from racing the postman down the block; when you nearly say to the waiter that if they deducted a cent from the bill for every degree the soup was below tepid the hotel would owe you half a dollar; when—and this is the infallible earmark of true exasperation—a smile affects you as an oil-baron’s undershirt affects a cow’s husband.