Великий Гэтсби
Chapter 7
"Wecan’tmove,"theysaidtogether.
Jordan’sfingers,powderedwhiteovertheirtan,restedforamomentinmine.
"AndMr.ThomasBuchanan,theathlete?"Iinquired.
SimultaneouslyIheardhisvoice,gruff,muffled,husky,atthehalltelephone.
Gatsbystoodinthecentreofthecrimsoncarpetandgazedaroundwithfascinatedeyes.Daisywatchedhimandlaughed,hersweet,excitinglaugh;atinygustofpowderrosefromherbosomintotheair.
"Therumoris,"whisperedJordan,"thatthat’sTom’sgirlonthetelephone."
Weweresilent.Thevoiceinthehallrosehighwithannoyance:"Verywell,then,Iwon’tsellyouthecaratall....I’mundernoobligationstoyouatall...andasforyourbotheringmeaboutitatlunchtime,Iwon’tstandthatatall!"
"Holdingdownthereceiver,"saidDaisycynically.
"No,he’snot,"Iassuredher."It’sabona-fidedeal.Ihappentoknowaboutit."
Tomflungopenthedoor,blockedoutitsspaceforamomentwithhisthickbody,andhurriedintotheroom.
"Mr.Gatsby!"Heputouthisbroad,flathandwithwell-concealeddislike."I’mgladtoseeyou,sir....Nick...."
"Makeusacolddrink,"criedDaisy.
AshelefttheroomagainshegotupandwentovertoGatsbyandpulledhisfacedown,kissinghimonthemouth.
