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- Фрэнсис Скотт Фицджеральд
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- Великий Гэтсби
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- Стр. 62/165
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But
she
did
n't
say
another
word
.
We
gave
her
spirits
of
ammonia
and
put
ice
on
her
forehead
and
hooked
her
back
into
her
dress
,
and
half
an
hour
later
,
when
we
walked
out
of
the
room
,
the
pearls
were
around
her
neck
and
the
incident
was
over
.
Next
day
at
five
o'clock
she
married
Tom
Buchanan
without
so
much
as
a
shiver
,
and
started
off
on
a
three
months
'
trip
to
the
South
Seas
.
I
saw
them
in
Santa
Barbara
when
they
came
back
,
and
I
thought
I
'd
never
seen
a
girl
so
mad
about
her
husband
.
If
he
left
the
room
for
a
minute
she
'd
look
around
uneasily
,
and
say
:
"
Where
's
Tom
gone
?
"
and
wear
the
most
abstracted
expression
until
she
saw
him
coming
in
the
door
.
She
used
to
sit
on
the
sand
with
his
head
in
her
lap
by
the
hour
,
rubbing
her
fingers
over
his
eyes
and
looking
at
him
with
unfathomable
delight
.
It
was
touching
to
see
them
together
--
it
made
you
laugh
in
a
hushed
,
fascinated
way
.
That
was
in
August
.
A
week
after
I
left
Santa
Barbara
Tom
ran
into
a
wagon
on
the
Ventura
road
one
night
,
and
ripped
a
front
wheel
off
his
car
.
The
girl
who
was
with
him
got
into
the
papers
,
too
,
because
her
arm
was
broken
--
she
was
one
of
the
chambermaids
in
the
Santa
Barbara
Hotel
.
The
next
April
Daisy
had
her
little
girl
,
and
they
went
to
France
for
a
year
.
I
saw
them
one
spring
in
Cannes
,
and
later
in
Deauville
,
and
then
they
came
back
to
Chicago
to
settle
down
.
Daisy
was
popular
in
Chicago
,
as
you
know
.
They
moved
with
a
fast
crowd
,
all
of
them
young
and
rich
and
wild
,
but
she
came
out
with
an
absolutely
perfect
reputation
.
Perhaps
because
she
does
n't
drink
.
It
's
a
great
advantage
not
to
drink
among
hard-drinking
people
.
You
can
hold
your
tongue
,
and
,
moreover
,
you
can
time
any
little
irregularity
of
your
own
so
that
everybody
else
is
so
blind
that
they
do
n't
see
or
care
.
Perhaps
Daisy
never
went
in
for
amour
at
all
--
and
yet
there
's
something
in
that
voice
of
hers
...
.
Well
,
about
six
weeks
ago
,
she
heard
the
name
Gatsby
for
the
first
time
in
years
.
It
was
when
I
asked
you
--
do
you
remember
?
--
if
you
knew
Gatsby
in
West
Egg
.
After
you
had
gone
home
she
came
into
my
room
and
woke
me
up
,
and
said
:
"
What
Gatsby
?
"
and
when
I
described
him
--
I
was
half
asleep
--
she
said
in
the
strangest
voice
that
it
must
be
the
man
she
used
to
know
.
It
was
n't
until
then
that
I
connected
this
Gatsby
with
the
officer
in
her
white
car
.
When
Jordan
Baker
had
finished
telling
all
this
we
had
left
the
Plaza
for
half
an
hour
and
were
driving
in
a
victoria
through
Central
Park
.
The
sun
had
gone
down
behind
the
tall
apartments
of
the
movie
stars
in
the
West
Fifties
,
and
the
clear
voices
of
girls
,
already
gathered
like
crickets
on
the
grass
,
rose
through
the
hot
twilight
:
"
I
'm
the
Sheik
of
Araby
.
Your
love
belongs
to
me
.
At
night
when
you
're
are
asleep
Into
your
tent
I
'll
creep
--
--
"
