Читать книгу The Complete Works of F. Scott Fitzgerald онлайн

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“How long did that take?” asked Abercrombie quietly.

“About—ten years.”

“Oh——”

“Ten years,” repeated Hemmick, staring out into the gathering darkness. “This is a little town you see: I say ten years because it was about ten years when the last reference to it came to my ears. But I was married long before that; had a kid. Cincinnati was out of my mind by that time.”

“Of course,” agreed Abercrombie.

They were both silent for a moment—then Hemmick added apologetically:

“That was sort of a long story, and I don’t know if it could have interested you much. But you asked me——”

“It did interest me,” answered Abercrombie politely. “It interested me tremendously. It interested me much more than I thought it would.”

It occurred to Hemmick that he himself had never realized what a curious, rounded tale it was. He saw dimly now that what had seemed to him only a fragment, a grotesque interlude, was really significant, complete. It was an interesting story; it was the story upon which turned the failure of his life. Abercrombie’s voice broke in upon his thoughts.