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- Фрэнсис Скотт Фицджеральд
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"
Double
chocolate
jiggah
?
Anything
else
?
"
"
Why
--
yes
.
"
"
Bacon
bun
?
"
"
Why
--
yes
.
"
He
munched
four
of
these
,
finding
them
of
pleasing
savor
,
and
then
consumed
another
double-chocolate
jigger
before
ease
descended
upon
him
.
After
a
cursory
inspection
of
the
pillow-cases
,
leather
pennants
,
and
Gibson
Girls
that
lined
the
walls
,
he
left
,
and
continued
along
Nassau
Street
with
his
hands
in
his
pockets
.
Gradually
he
was
learning
to
distinguish
between
upper
classmen
and
entering
men
,
even
though
the
freshman
cap
would
not
appear
until
the
following
Monday
.
Those
who
were
too
obviously
,
too
nervously
at
home
were
freshmen
,
for
as
each
train
brought
a
new
contingent
it
was
immediately
absorbed
into
the
hatless
,
white-shod
,
book-laden
throng
,
whose
function
seemed
to
be
to
drift
endlessly
up
and
down
the
street
,
emitting
great
clouds
of
smoke
from
brand-new
pipes
.
By
afternoon
Amory
realized
that
now
the
newest
arrivals
were
taking
him
for
an
upper
classman
,
and
he
tried
conscientiously
to
look
both
pleasantly
blasé
and
casually
critical
,
which
was
as
near
as
he
could
analyze
the
prevalent
facial
expression
.
At
five
o'clock
he
felt
the
need
of
hearing
his
own
voice
,
so
he
retreated
to
his
house
to
see
if
any
one
else
had
arrived
.
Having
climbed
the
rickety
stairs
he
scrutinized
his
room
resignedly
,
concluding
that
it
was
hopeless
to
attempt
any
more
inspired
decoration
than
class
banners
and
tiger
pictures
.
There
was
a
tap
at
the
door
.
"
Come
in
!
"
A
slim
face
with
gray
eyes
and
a
humorous
smile
appeared
in
the
doorway
.
"
Got
a
hammer
?
"
"
No
--
sorry
.
