Reserving judgments is a matter of infinite hope
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24 mars 2009 | La vie de la cité | Aucune réponse
Le Président l’a dit et répété aujourd’hui à Saint-Quentin : la seule appartenance à une bande pourra désormais être passible jusqu’à trois ans de prison.
Tout obséquieux que je suis, j’accepte de dénoncer une dangereuse bande, menée par un gourou belge répondant au nom d’André V.
Regardez ces costumes chamarrés et psychédéliques. C’est assurément une bande d’ultragauchistes violents :
Miss Baker and I exchanged a short glance consciously devoid of meaning. I was about to speak when she sat up alertly and said “Sh!” in a warning voice. A subdued impassioned murmur was audible in the room beyond, and Miss Baker leaned forward unashamed, trying to hear. The murmur trembled on the verge of coherence, sank down, mounted excitedly, and then ceased altogether.
“This Mr. Gatsby you spoke of is my neighbor——” I said.
“Don’t talk. I want to hear what happens.”
“Is something happening?” I inquired innocently.
“You mean to say you don’t know?” said Miss Baker, honestly surprised. “I thought everybody knew.”
“I don’t.”
“Why——” she said hesitantly, “Tom’s got some woman in New York.”
“Got some woman?” I repeated blankly.
Miss Baker nodded.
“She might have the decency not to telephone him at dinner time. Don’t you think?”