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- Фрэнсис Скотт Фицджеральд
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- Великий Гэтсби
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- Стр. 73/165
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"
She
's
embarrassed
?
"
he
repeated
incredulously
.
"
Just
as
much
as
you
are
.
"
"
Do
n't
talk
so
loud
.
"
"
You
're
acting
like
a
little
boy
,
"
I
broke
out
impatiently
.
"
Not
only
that
,
but
you
're
rude
.
Daisy
's
sitting
in
there
all
alone
.
"
He
raised
his
hand
to
stop
my
words
,
looked
at
me
with
unforgettable
reproach
,
and
,
opening
the
door
cautiously
,
went
back
into
the
other
room
.
I
walked
out
the
back
way
--
just
as
Gatsby
had
when
he
had
made
his
nervous
circuit
of
the
house
half
an
hour
before
--
and
ran
for
a
huge
black
knotted
tree
,
whose
massed
leaves
made
a
fabric
against
the
rain
.
Once
more
it
was
pouring
,
and
my
irregular
lawn
,
well-shaved
by
Gatsby
's
gardener
,
abounded
in
small
,
muddy
swamps
and
prehistoric
marshes
.
There
was
nothing
to
look
at
from
under
the
tree
except
Gatsby
's
enormous
house
,
so
I
stared
at
it
,
like
Kant
at
his
church
steeple
,
for
half
an
hour
.
A
brewer
had
built
it
early
in
the
"
period
"
craze
,
a
decade
before
,
and
there
was
a
story
that
he
'd
agreed
to
pay
five
years
'
taxes
on
all
the
neighboring
cottages
if
the
owners
would
have
their
roofs
thatched
with
straw
.
Perhaps
their
refusal
took
the
heart
out
of
his
plan
to
Found
a
Family
--
he
went
into
an
immediate
decline
.
His
children
sold
his
house
with
the
black
wreath
still
on
the
door
.
Americans
,
while
occasionally
willing
to
be
serfs
,
have
always
been
obstinate
about
being
peasantry
.
After
half
an
hour
,
the
sun
shone
again
,
and
the
grocer
's
automobile
rounded
Gatsby
's
drive
with
the
raw
material
for
his
servants
'
dinner
--
I
felt
sure
he
would
n't
eat
a
spoonful
.
A
maid
began
opening
the
upper
windows
of
his
house
,
appeared
momentarily
in
each
,
and
,
leaning
from
a
large
central
bay
,
spat
meditatively
into
the
garden
.
It
was
time
I
went
back
.
While
the
rain
continued
it
had
seemed
like
the
murmur
of
their
voices
,
rising
and
swelling
a
little
now
and
then
with
gusts
of
emotion
.
But
in
the
new
silence
I
felt
that
silence
had
fallen
within
the
house
too
.
I
went
in
--
after
making
every
possible
noise
in
the
kitchen
,
short
of
pushing
over
the
stove
--
but
I
do
n't
believe
they
heard
a
sound
.
They
were
sitting
at
either
end
of
the
couch
,
looking
at
each
other
as
if
some
question
had
been
asked
,
or
was
in
the
air
,
and
every
vestige
of
embarrassment
was
gone
.
Daisy
's
face
was
smeared
with
tears
,
and
when
I
came
in
she
jumped
up
and
began
wiping
at
it
with
her
handkerchief
before
a
mirror
.
But
there
was
a
change
in
Gatsby
that
was
simply
confounding
.
He
literally
glowed
;
without
a
word
or
a
gesture
of
exultation
a
new
well-being
radiated
from
him
and
filled
the
little
room
.
"
Oh
,
hello
,
old
sport
,
"
he
said
,
as
if
he
had
n't
seen
me
for
years
.
I
thought
for
a
moment
he
was
going
to
shake
hands
.
"
It
's
stopped
raining
.
"
