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- Фрэнсис Скотт Фицджеральд
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- Великий Гэтсби
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- Стр. 152/165
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There
was
a
long
silence
on
the
other
end
of
the
wire
,
followed
by
an
exclamation
...
then
a
quick
squawk
as
the
connection
was
broken
.
I
think
it
was
on
the
third
day
that
a
telegram
signed
Henry
C.
Gatz
arrived
from
a
town
in
Minnesota
.
It
said
only
that
the
sender
was
leaving
immediately
and
to
postpone
the
funeral
until
he
came
.
It
was
Gatsby
's
father
,
a
solemn
old
man
,
very
helpless
and
dismayed
,
bundled
up
in
a
long
cheap
ulster
against
the
warm
September
day
.
His
eyes
leaked
continuously
with
excitement
,
and
when
I
took
the
bag
and
umbrella
from
his
hands
he
began
to
pull
so
incessantly
at
his
sparse
gray
beard
that
I
had
difficulty
in
getting
off
his
coat
.
He
was
on
the
point
of
collapse
,
so
I
took
him
into
the
music
room
and
made
him
sit
down
while
I
sent
for
something
to
eat
.
But
he
would
n't
eat
,
and
the
glass
of
milk
spilled
from
his
trembling
hand
.
"
I
saw
it
in
the
Chicago
newspaper
,
"
he
said
.
"
It
was
all
in
the
Chicago
newspaper
.
I
started
right
away
.
"
"
I
did
n't
know
how
to
reach
you
.
"
His
eyes
,
seeing
nothing
,
moved
ceaselessly
about
the
room
.
"
It
was
a
madman
,
"
he
said
.
"
He
must
have
been
mad
.
"
"
Would
n't
you
like
some
coffee
?
"
I
urged
him
.
"
I
do
n't
want
anything
.
I
'm
all
right
now
,
Mr.
--
--
"
"
Carraway
.
"
"
Well
,
I
'm
all
right
now
.
Where
have
they
got
Jimmy
?
"
I
took
him
into
the
drawing-room
,
where
his
son
lay
,
and
left
him
there
.
Some
little
boys
had
come
up
on
the
steps
and
were
looking
into
the
hall
;
when
I
told
them
who
had
arrived
,
they
went
reluctantly
away
.
