Великий Гэтсби = The Great Gatsby

He visited popular restaurants with her and, leaving her at a table, wandering about, chatting with whomsoever he knew. Though I was curious to see her I had no desire to meet her-but I did. I went up to New York with Tom on the train one afternoon and when we stopped he jumped to his feet and forced me outside.

“We're getting off!” he insisted. “I want you to meet my girl.”

He definitely decided to have my company. He thought that on Sunday afternoon I had nothing better to do. I followed him over a low white-washed railroad fence.

I saw a garage-Repairs. GEORGE B. WILSON. Cars Bought and Sold-and I followed Tom inside.

The interior was bare; the only automobile visible was the dust-covered Ford which stood in a dim corner. The proprietor himself appeared in the door of an office, wiping his hands on a piece of waste. He was a blonde, spiritless, faintly handsome man.

* * *

«Привет, Уилсон, старик, – сказал Том, slapping его по плечу. – Как дела?»

«Н жалуюсь, – ответил Уилсон. – Когда вы собираетесь sell мне тот автомобиль?»

«На следующей week.

Мой человек над ней работает».

«Он довольно slow работает, не так ли?»

«Нет, не так, – холодно сказал Том. – А если тебе так кажется, то, maybe, мне стоит sell её кому-то другому».

«Я имел в виду не это, – быстро объяснил Уилсон. – Я лишь подразумевал…»

Том impatiently оглядел гараж. Затем я услышал на лестнице footsteps и увидел женщину. Она была лет тридцати пяти, со faintly stout, но несла свою избыточную flesh так sensuously, как это могут делать лишь некоторые женщины.

Она slowly улыбнулась и прошла мимо мужа, будто он был ghost, пожав руку Тому.

complain – жаловаться

faintly stout – со склонностью к полноте

flesh – плоть

footstep – шаг

ghost – призрак

impatiently – нетерпеливо

maybe – возможно

sell – продавать

sensuously – чувственно

slap – хлопать

slow – медленно

slowly – медленно

week – неделя

“Hello, Wilson, old man,” said Tom, slapping him on the shoulder.

“How's business?”

“I can't complain,” answered Wilson. “When are you going to sell me that automobile?”

“Next week. My man is working on it now.”

“He is working pretty slow, right?”

“No, he isn't,” said Tom coldly. “And if you think so, maybe I'd better sell it somewhere else after all.”

“I don't mean that,” explained Wilson quickly. “I just meant…”

Tom glanced impatiently around the garage. Then I heard footsteps on a stairs and saw a woman.