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- Фрэнсис Скотт Фицджеральд
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"
'
Gratulations
yourself
.
Hear
you
got
a
good
crowd
.
"
When
the
bar
closed
,
the
party
broke
up
into
groups
and
streamed
,
singing
,
over
the
snow-clad
campus
,
in
a
weird
delusion
that
snobbishness
and
strain
were
over
at
last
,
and
that
they
could
do
what
they
pleased
for
the
next
two
years
.
Long
afterward
Amory
thought
of
sophomore
spring
as
the
happiest
time
of
his
life
.
His
ideas
were
in
tune
with
life
as
he
found
it
;
he
wanted
no
more
than
to
drift
and
dream
and
enjoy
a
dozen
new-found
friendships
through
the
April
afternoons
.
Alec
Connage
came
into
his
room
one
morning
and
woke
him
up
into
the
sunshine
and
peculiar
glory
of
Campbell
Hall
shining
in
the
window
.
"
Wake
up
,
Original
Sin
,
and
scrape
yourself
together
.
Be
in
front
of
Renwick
's
in
half
an
hour
.
Somebody
's
got
a
car
.
"
He
took
the
bureau
cover
and
carefully
deposited
it
,
with
its
load
of
small
articles
,
upon
the
bed
.
"
Where
'd
you
get
the
car
?
"
demanded
Amory
cynically
.
"
Sacred
trust
,
but
do
n't
be
a
critical
goopher
or
you
ca
n't
go
!
"
"
I
think
I
'll
sleep
,
"
Amory
said
calmly
,
resettling
himself
and
reaching
beside
the
bed
for
a
cigarette
.
"
Sleep
!
"
"
Why
not
?
I
've
got
a
class
at
eleven-thirty
.
"
