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- Фрэнсис Скотт Фицджеральд
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Disciplined
he
crushed
his
passion
into
a
corner
of
his
mind
,
but
bearing
up
her
fragility
on
his
arms
until
she
was
poised
half
a
foot
above
him
,
he
said
lightly
:
"
Darling
—
that
doesn
’
t
matter
.
"
Her
face
had
changed
with
his
looking
up
at
it
;
there
was
the
eternal
moonlight
in
it
.
"
That
would
be
poetic
justice
if
it
should
be
you
,
"
she
said
.
She
twisted
away
from
him
,
walked
to
the
mirror
,
and
boxed
her
disarranged
hair
with
her
hands
.
Presently
she
drew
a
chair
close
to
the
bed
and
stroked
his
cheek
.
"
Tell
me
the
truth
about
you
,
"
he
demanded
.
"
I
always
have
.
"
"
In
a
way
—
but
nothing
hangs
together
.
"
They
both
laughed
but
he
pursued
.
"
Are
you
actually
a
virgin
?
"
"
No
-
o
-
o
!
"
she
sang
.
"
I
’
ve
slept
with
six
hundred
and
forty
men
—
if
that
’
s
the
answer
you
want
.
"
