Великий Гэтсби

           Whenanyonespoketohimheinvariablylaughedinanagreeable,colorlessway.Hewashiswife’smanandnothisown.

           SonaturallyMichaelistriedtofindoutwhathadhappened,butWilsonwouldn’tsayaword—insteadhebegantothrowcurious,suspiciousglancesathisvisitorandaskhimwhathe’dbeendoingatcertaintimesoncertaindays.Justasthelatterwasgettinguneasy,someworkmencamepastthedoorboundforhisrestaurant,andMichaelistooktheopportunitytogetaway,intendingtocomebacklater.Buthedidn’t.Hesupposedheforgotto,that’sall.Whenhecameoutsideagain,alittleafterseven,hewasremindedoftheconversationbecauseheheardMrs.Wilson’svoice,loudandscolding,down-stairsinthegarage.

           "Beatme!"heheardhercry."Throwmedownandbeatme,youdirtylittlecoward!"

           Amomentlatersherushedoutintothedusk,wavingherhandsandshouting—beforehecouldmovefromhisdoorthebusinesswasover.

           The"deathcar,"asthenewspaperscalledit,didn’tstop;itcameoutofthegatheringdarkness,waveredtragicallyforamoment,andthendisappearedaroundthenextbend.Michaeliswasn’tevensureofitscolor—hetoldthefirstpolicemanthatitwaslightgreen.Theothercar,theonegoingtowardNewYork,cametorestahundredyardsbeyond,anditsdriverhurriedbacktowhereMyrtleWilson,herlifeviolentlyextinguished,kneltintheroadandmingledherthickdarkbloodwiththedust.

           Michaelisandthismanreachedherfirst,butwhentheyhadtornopenhershirtwaist,stilldampwithperspiration,theysawthatherleftbreastwasswinginglooselikeaflap,andtherewasnoneedtolistenfortheheartbeneath.