Великий Гэтсби

           "Ican’tcomplain,"answeredWilsonunconvincingly."Whenareyougoingtosellmethatcar?"

           "Nextweek;I’vegotmymanworkingonitnow."

           "Worksprettyslow,don’the?"

           "No,hedoesn’t,"saidTomcoldly."Andifyoufeelthatwayaboutit,maybeI’dbettersellitsomewhereelseafterall."

           "Idon’tmeanthat,"explainedWilsonquickly."Ijustmeant——"

           HisvoicefadedoffandTomglancedimpatientlyaroundthegarage.ThenIheardfootstepsonastairs,andinamomentthethickishfigureofawomanblockedoutthelightfromtheofficedoor.Shewasinthemiddlethirties,andfaintlystout,butshecarriedhersurplusfleshsensuouslyassomewomencan.Herface,aboveaspotteddressofdarkbluecrepe-de-chine,containednofacetorgleamofbeauty,buttherewasanimmediatelyperceptiblevitalityaboutherasifthenervesofherbodywerecontinuallysmouldering.Shesmiledslowlyand,walkingthroughherhusbandasifhewereaghost,shookhandswithTom,lookinghimflushintheeye.Thenshewetherlips,andwithoutturningaroundspoketoherhusbandinasoft,coarsevoice:

           "Getsomechairs,whydon’tyou,sosomebodycansitdown."

           "Oh,sure,"agreedWilsonhurriedly,andwenttowardthelittleoffice,minglingimmediatelywiththecementcolorofthewalls.Awhiteashendustveiledhisdarksuitandhispalehairasitveiledeverythinginthevicinity—excepthiswife,whomovedclosetoTom.

           "Iwanttoseeyou,"saidTomintently."Getonthenexttrain."

           "Allright."