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- Фрэнсис Скотт Фицджеральд
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- Великий Гэтсби
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- Стр. 16/165
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"
Do
n't
believe
everything
you
hear
,
Nick
,
"
he
advised
me
.
I
said
lightly
that
I
had
heard
nothing
at
all
,
and
a
few
minutes
later
I
got
up
to
go
home
.
They
came
to
the
door
with
me
and
stood
side
by
side
in
a
cheerful
square
of
light
.
As
I
started
my
motor
Daisy
peremptorily
called
:
"
Wait
!
"
"
I
forgot
to
ask
you
something
,
and
it
's
important
.
We
heard
you
were
engaged
to
a
girl
out
West
.
"
"
That
's
right
,
"
corroborated
Tom
kindly
.
"
We
heard
that
you
were
engaged
.
"
"
It
's
libel
.
I
'm
too
poor
.
"
"
But
we
heard
it
,
"
insisted
Daisy
,
surprising
me
by
opening
up
again
in
a
flower-like
way
.
"
We
heard
it
from
three
people
,
so
it
must
be
true
.
"
Of
course
I
knew
what
they
were
referring
to
,
but
I
was
n't
even
vaguely
engaged
.
The
fact
that
gossip
had
published
the
banns
was
one
of
the
reasons
I
had
come
East
.
You
ca
n't
stop
going
with
an
old
friend
on
account
of
rumors
,
and
on
the
other
hand
I
had
no
intention
of
being
rumored
into
marriage
.
Their
interest
rather
touched
me
and
made
them
less
remotely
rich
--
nevertheless
,
I
was
confused
and
a
little
disgusted
as
I
drove
away
.
It
seemed
to
me
that
the
thing
for
Daisy
to
do
was
to
rush
out
of
the
house
,
child
in
arms
--
but
apparently
there
were
no
such
intentions
in
her
head
.
As
for
Tom
,
the
fact
that
he
"
had
some
woman
in
New
York
.
"
was
really
less
surprising
than
that
he
had
been
depressed
by
a
book
.
Something
was
making
him
nibble
at
the
edge
of
stale
ideas
as
if
his
sturdy
physical
egotism
no
longer
nourished
his
peremptory
heart
.
Already
it
was
deep
summer
on
roadhouse
roofs
and
in
front
of
wayside
garages
,
where
new
red
gas-pumps
sat
out
in
pools
of
light
,
and
when
I
reached
my
estate
at
West
Egg
I
ran
the
car
under
its
shed
and
sat
for
a
while
on
an
abandoned
grass
roller
in
the
yard
.
The
wind
had
blown
off
,
leaving
a
loud
,
bright
night
,
with
wings
beating
in
the
trees
and
a
persistent
organ
sound
as
the
full
bellows
of
the
earth
blew
the
frogs
full
of
life
.
The
silhouette
of
a
moving
cat
wavered
across
the
moonlight
,
and
turning
my
head
to
watch
it
,
I
saw
that
I
was
not
alone
--
fifty
feet
away
a
figure
had
emerged
from
the
shadow
of
my
neighbor
's
mansion
and
was
standing
with
his
hands
in
his
pockets
regarding
the
silver
pepper
of
the
stars
.
Something
in
his
leisurely
movements
and
the
secure
position
of
his
feet
upon
the
lawn
suggested
that
it
was
Mr.
Gatsby
himself
,
come
out
to
determine
what
share
was
his
of
our
local
heavens
.
