Над пропастью во ржи

           Then,allofasudden,Igotthisidea.ItookoutmywalletandstartedlookingforthisaddressaguyImetatapartylastsummer,thatwenttoPrinceton,gaveme.FinallyIfoundit.Itwasallafunnycolorfrommywallet,butyoucouldstillreadit. Itwastheaddressofthisgirlthatwasn’texactlyawhoreoranythingbutthatdidn’tminddoingitonceinawhile,thisPrincetonguytoldme.HebroughthertoadanceatPrincetononce,andtheynearlykickedhimoutforbringingher. Sheusedtobeaburlesquestripperorsomething.Anyway,Iwentovertothephoneandgaveherabuzz.HernamewasFaithCavendish,andshelivedattheStanfordArmsHotelonSixty-fifthandBroadway.Adump,nodoubt. 

           Forawhile,Ididntthinkshewashomeorsomething.Nobodykeptanswering.Then,finally,somebodypickedupthephone. 

           "Hello?"Isaid.Imademyvoicequitedeepsothatshewouldn’tsuspectmyageoranything.Ihaveaprettydeepvoiceanyway. 

           "Hello,"thiswoman’svoicesaid.Nonetoofriendly,either. 

           "IsthisMissFaithCavendish?" 

           "Who’sthis?"shesaid."Who’scallingmeupatthiscrazygoddamhour?" 

           Thatsortofscaredmealittlebit. "Well,Iknowit’squitelate,"Isaid,inthisverymaturevoiceandall."Ihopeyou’llforgiveme,butIwasveryanxioustogetintouchwithyou."Isaiditsuaveashell.Ireallydid. 

           "Whoisthis?"shesaid. 

           "Well,youdon’tknowme,butI’mafriendofEddieBirdsell’s.