The Last Tycoon / Последний магнат. Книга для чтения на английском языке

The victor of New Orleans, opponent of the National Bank, and inventor of the Spoils System[18 - the Spoils System – в США практика, по которой общественные учреждения со всеми своими доходами попадают в распоряжение правящей партии].”

Schwartz looked toward me as toward a jury.

“There’s a writer for you,” he said. “Knows everything and at the same time he knows nothing.”

“What’s that?” said Wylie, indignant.

It was my first inkling that he was a writer. And while I like writers – because if you ask a writer anything, you usually get an answer – still it belittled him in my eyes. Writers aren’t people exactly. Or, if they’re any good, they’re a whole lot of people trying so hard to be one person. It’s like actors, who try so pathetically not to look in mirrors. Who lean backward trying – only to see their faces in the reflecting chandeliers.

“Ain’t writers like that, Celia?” demanded Schwartz.

Wylie looked at him with slowly gathering indignation. “I’ve heard that before,” he said. “Look, Manny, I’m a more practical man than you any day! I’ve sat in an office and listened to some mystic stalk up and down for hours spouting tripe that’d land him on a nut-farm anywhere outside of California – and then at the end tell me how practical he was, and I was a dreamer – and would I kindly go away and make sense out of what he’d said.

Mr. Schwartz’s face fell into its more disintegrated alignments. One eye looked upward through the tall elms. He raised his hand and bit without interest at the cuticle on his second finger. There was a bird flying about the chimney of the house, and his glance followed it. It perched on the chimney pot like a raven, and Mr. Schwartz’s eyes remained fixed upon it as he said: “We can’t get in, and it’s time for you two to go back to the plane.

It was still not quite dawn. The Hermitage looked like a nice big white box, but a little lonely and vacated still after a hundred years. We walked back to the car. Only after we had gotten in, and Mr. Schwartz had surprisingly shut the taxi door on us, did we realize he didn’t intend to come along.

“I’m not going to the Coast – I decided that when I woke up. So I’ll stay here, and afterwards the driver could come back for me.