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- Фрэнсис Скотт Фицджеральд
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- Великий Гэтсби
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- Стр. 52/165
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"
No
,
old
sport
,
I
'm
not
.
But
Miss
Baker
has
kindly
consented
to
speak
to
you
about
this
matter
.
"
I
had
n't
the
faintest
idea
what
"
this
matter
"
was
,
but
I
was
more
annoyed
than
interested
.
I
had
n't
asked
Jordan
to
tea
in
order
to
discuss
Mr.
Jay
Gatsby
.
I
was
sure
the
request
would
be
something
utterly
fantastic
,
and
for
a
moment
I
was
sorry
I
'd
ever
set
foot
upon
his
overpopulated
lawn
.
He
would
n't
say
another
word
.
His
correctness
grew
on
him
as
we
neared
the
city
.
We
passed
Port
Roosevelt
,
where
there
was
a
glimpse
of
red-belted
ocean-going
ships
,
and
sped
along
a
cobbled
slum
lined
with
the
dark
,
undeserted
saloons
of
the
faded-gilt
nineteen-hundreds
.
Then
the
valley
of
ashes
opened
out
on
both
sides
of
us
,
and
I
had
a
glimpse
of
Mrs.
Wilson
straining
at
the
garage
pump
with
panting
vitality
as
we
went
by
.
With
fenders
spread
like
wings
we
scattered
light
through
half
Long
Island
City
--
only
half
,
for
as
we
twisted
among
the
pillars
of
the
elevated
I
heard
the
familiar
"
jug
--
jug
--
spat
!
"
of
a
motorcycle
,
and
a
frantic
policeman
rode
alongside
.
"
All
right
,
old
sport
,
"
called
Gatsby
.
We
slowed
down
.
Taking
a
white
card
from
his
wallet
,
he
waved
it
before
the
man
's
eyes
.
"
Right
you
are
,
"
agreed
the
policeman
,
tipping
his
cap
.
"
Know
you
next
time
,
Mr.
Gatsby
.
Excuse
me
!
"
"
What
was
that
?
"
I
inquired
.
"
The
picture
of
Oxford
?
"
"
I
was
able
to
do
the
commissioner
a
favor
once
,
and
he
sends
me
a
Christmas
card
every
year
.
"
Over
the
great
bridge
,
with
the
sunlight
through
the
girders
making
a
constant
flicker
upon
the
moving
cars
,
with
the
city
rising
up
across
the
river
in
white
heaps
and
sugar
lumps
all
built
with
a
wish
out
of
non-olfactory
money
.
The
city
seen
from
the
Queensboro
Bridge
is
always
the
city
seen
for
the
first
time
,
in
its
first
wild
promise
of
all
the
mystery
and
the
beauty
in
the
world
.
