The Beautiful and Damned / Прекрасные и обреченные. Уровень 4. Фрэнсис Скотт Фицджеральд

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you, though!”

      “I want to hear a million robins. I like birds.”

      “All women are birds,” he ventured.

      “What kind am I?”

      “A swallow, I think, and sometimes a bird of paradise. Most girls are sparrows, of course. And of course you’ve met canary girls – and robin girls.”

      “And swan girls and parrot girls. All grown women are hawks, I think, or owls.”

      “What am I – a buzzard?”

      She laughed and shook her head.

      “Oh, no, you’re not a bird at all. You’re a Russian wolfhound. Dick’s a fox terrier, a trick fox terrier,” she continued.

      “And Maury’s a cat.”

      Later, as they parted, Anthony asked when he might see her again. She thought for a moment. “Maybe next Sunday.”

      “All right.”

      And when the day came they sat upon the lounge. After a while Anthony kissed her. And he had told her gently, almost in the middle of a kiss, that he loved her, and she had smiled and held him closer and murmured, “I’m glad,” looking into his eyes.

      He had felt nearer to her than ever before. In a rare delight he cried aloud to the room that he loved her.

      He phoned next morning:

      “Good morning, Gloria.”

      “Good morning.”

      “I just called to say that.”

      “I’m glad you did.”

      “I wish I could see you.”

      “You will, tomorrow night.”

      “That’s a long time, isn’t it?”

      “Yes.” Her voice was reluctant.

      “Couldn’t I come tonight?”

      “I have a date.”

      “Oh.”

      “But I might – I might be able to break it.”

      “Oh! Gloria?”

      “What?”

      “I love you.”

      Another pause and then:

      “I–I’m glad.”

      When Anthony walked down the tenth-floor corridor of the Plaza that night, his dark eyes were gleaming. He knocked and entered. Gloria, dressed in pink, was across the room, standing very still, and looking at him. As he closed the door behind him she gave a little cry and moved.

      Book Two

      Chapter I

      The Radiant Hour

      After a fortnight Anthony and Gloria began talk about marriage.

      “Tell me all the reasons why you’re going to marry me in June,” said Anthony.

      “Well, because you’re so clean, like I am. There are two sorts, you know. One’s like Dick: he’s clean like polished pans. You and I are clean like streams and winds. I can tell whenever I see a person whether he is clean, and if so, which kind of clean he is.”

      “We’re twins.”

      “Mother says” – she hesitated uncertainly – “mother says that two souls are sometimes created together and – and in love before they’re born.”

      He lifted up his head and laughed soundlessly toward the ceiling. When his eyes came back to her he saw that she was angry.

      “Why did you laugh?” she cried, “you’ve done that twice before. There’s nothing funny about our relation to each other.”

      “I’m sorry.”

      “Oh, don’t say you’re sorry! If you can’t think of anything better than that, just keep quiet!”

      “I love you.”

      “I don’t care.”

      There was a pause. Anthony was depressed. At length Gloria murmured:

      “I’m sorry I was rude.”

      “You weren’t. I was the one.”

      Peace was restored: the passion of their pretense created the actuality. But Anthony felt often like a scarcely tolerated guest at a party she was giving.

      Mrs. Gilbert must have known everything – for three weeks Gloria had seen no one else – and she must have noticed that this time there was a difference in her daughter’s attitude. So she declared herself immensely pleased; she doubtless was.

      But between kisses Anthony and this golden girl quarrelled incessantly.

      “Now, Gloria,” he would cry, “please let me explain!”

      “Don’t explain. Kiss me.”

      “I don’t think that’s right. If I hurt your feelings we ought to discuss it. I don’t like this kiss-and-forget.”

      “But I don’t want to argue. I think it’s wonderful that we can kiss and forget, and when we can’t it’ll be time to argue.”

      Meanwhile they knew each other, unwillingly, by curious reactions, by distastes and prejudices. The girl was proudly incapable of jealousy and, because he was extremely jealous, this virtue piqued him.

      “Oh, Anthony,” she would say, “always when I’m mean to you I’m sorry afterward.”

      Yet Anthony knew that there were days when they hurt each other purposely.

      “Why do you like Muriel?” he demanded one day.

      “I don’t very much.”

      “Then why do you go with her?”

      “Just for some one to go with. But I rather like Rachael. I think she’s cute – and so clean and slick. I used to have other friends – in Kansas City and at school – casual, all of them. Now they’re mostly married. What does it matter – they were all just people.”

      “You like men better, don’t you?”

      “Oh, much better. I’ve got a man’s mind.”

      “You’ve got a mind like mine.”

      Later she told him about the beginnings of her friendship with Bloeckman. One day Gloria and Rachael had come upon Bloeckman. She had liked him. He was a relief from younger men. He humored her and he laughed, whether he understood her or not. She met him several times, despite the disapproval of her parents,

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