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- Фрэнсис Скотт Фицджеральд
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- Стр. 130/348
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"
Where
now
?
"
"
Up
to
the
flat
,
"
suggested
Phoebe
.
"
We
've
got
brandy
and
fizz
--
and
everything
's
slow
down
here
to-night
.
"
Amory
considered
quickly
.
He
had
n't
been
drinking
,
and
decided
that
if
he
took
no
more
,
it
would
be
reasonably
discreet
for
him
to
trot
along
in
the
party
.
In
fact
,
it
would
be
,
perhaps
,
the
thing
to
do
in
order
to
keep
an
eye
on
Sloane
,
who
was
not
in
a
state
to
do
his
own
thinking
.
So
he
took
Axia
's
arm
and
,
piling
intimately
into
a
taxicab
,
they
drove
out
over
the
hundreds
and
drew
up
at
a
tall
,
white-stone
apartment-house
.
...
Never
would
he
forget
that
street
...
It
was
a
broad
street
,
lined
on
both
sides
with
just
such
tall
,
white-stone
buildings
,
dotted
with
dark
windows
;
they
stretched
along
as
far
as
the
eye
could
see
,
flooded
with
a
bright
moonlight
that
gave
them
a
calcium
pallor
.
He
imagined
each
one
to
have
an
elevator
and
a
colored
hall-boy
and
a
key-rack
;
each
one
to
be
eight
stories
high
and
full
of
three
and
four
room
suites
.
He
was
rather
glad
to
walk
into
the
cheeriness
of
Phoebe
's
living-room
and
sink
onto
a
sofa
,
while
the
girls
went
rummaging
for
food
.
"
Phoebe
's
great
stuff
,
"
confided
Sloane
,
sotto
voce
.
"
I
'm
only
going
to
stay
half
an
hour
,
"
Amory
said
sternly
.
He
wondered
if
it
sounded
priggish
.
"
Hell
y
'
say
,
"
protested
Sloane
.
"
We
're
here
now
--
do
n't
le
's
rush
.
"
"
I
do
n't
like
this
place
,
"
Amory
said
sulkily
,
"
and
I
do
n't
want
any
food
.
"
Phoebe
reappeared
with
sandwiches
,
brandy
bottle
,
siphon
,
and
four
glasses
.
"
Amory
,
pour
'em
out
,
"
she
said
,
"
and
we
'll
drink
to
Fred
Sloane
,
who
has
a
rare
,
distinguished
edge
.
"
