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- Фрэнсис Скотт Фицджеральд
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- Великий Гэтсби
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- Стр. 30/165
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"
Come
to
lunch
some
day
,
"
he
suggested
,
as
we
groaned
down
in
the
elevator
.
"
Where
?
"
"
Anywhere
.
"
"
Keep
your
hands
off
the
lever
,
"
snapped
the
elevator
boy
.
"
I
beg
your
pardon
,
"
said
Mr.
McKee
with
dignity
,
"
I
did
n't
know
I
was
touching
it
.
"
"
All
right
,
"
I
agreed
,
"
I
'll
be
glad
to
.
"
...
I
was
standing
beside
his
bed
and
he
was
sitting
up
between
the
sheets
,
clad
in
his
underwear
,
with
a
great
portfolio
in
his
hands
.
"
Beauty
and
the
Beast
...
Loneliness
...
Old
Grocery
Horse
...
Brook
'n
Bridge
...
"
Then
I
was
lying
half
asleep
in
the
cold
lower
level
of
the
Pennsylvania
Station
,
staring
at
the
morning
Tribune
,
and
waiting
for
the
four
o'clock
train
.
There
was
music
from
my
neighbor
's
house
through
the
summer
nights
.
In
his
blue
gardens
men
and
girls
came
and
went
like
moths
among
the
whisperings
and
the
champagne
and
the
stars
.
At
high
tide
in
the
afternoon
I
watched
his
guests
diving
from
the
tower
of
his
raft
,
or
taking
the
sun
on
the
hot
sand
of
his
beach
while
his
two
motor-boats
slit
the
waters
of
the
Sound
,
drawing
aquaplanes
over
cataracts
of
foam
.
On
week-ends
his
Rolls-Royce
became
an
omnibus
,
bearing
parties
to
and
from
the
city
between
nine
in
the
morning
and
long
past
midnight
,
while
his
station
wagon
scampered
like
a
brisk
yellow
bug
to
meet
all
trains
.
And
on
Mondays
eight
servants
,
including
an
extra
gardener
,
toiled
all
day
with
mops
and
scrubbing-brushes
and
hammers
and
garden-shears
,
repairing
the
ravages
of
the
night
before
.
