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CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 10 - раздел История, Эрик Сигл. История любви   Mr. William F. Thompson, Associate Dean Of The Harvard Law Sc...

 

Mr. William F. Thompson, Associate Dean of the Harvard Law School,

could not believe his ears.

"Did I hear you right, Mr. Barrett?"

"Yes, sir, Dean Thompson."

It had not been easy to say the first time. It was no easier repeating

it .

"I'll need a scholarship for next year, sir." "Really?"

"That's why I'm here, sir. You are in charge of Financial Aid, aren't

you, Dean Thompson?"

"Yes, but it's rather curious. Your father"

"He's no longer involved, sir."

"I beg your pardon?" Dean Thompson took off his glasses and began to

polish them with his tie.

"He and I have had a sort of disagreement."

The Dean put his glasses back on, and looked at me with that kind of

expressionless expression you have to be a dean to master.

"This is very unfortunate, Mr. Barrett," he said. For whom? I wanted to

say. This guy was beginning to piss me off.

"Yes, sir," I said. "Very unfortunate. But that's why I've come to you,

sir. I'm getting married next month. We'll both be working over the summer.

Then Jenny

-that's my wife-will be teaching in a private school. That's a living,

but it's still not tuition. Your tuition is pretty steep, Dean Thompson."

"Uh-yes," he replied. But that's all. Didn't this guy get the drift of

my conversation? Why in hell did he think I was there, anyway?

"Dean Thompson, I would like a scholarship." I said it straight out. A

third time. "I have absolutely zilch in the bank, and I'm already accepted."

"Ah, yes," said Mr. Thompson, hitting upon the technicality. "The final

date for financial-aid applications is long overdue."

What would satisfy this bastard? The gory details, maybe? Was it

scandal he wanted? What?

"Dean Thompson, when I applied I didn't know this would come up.

"That's quite right, Mr. Barrett, and I must tell you that I really

don't think this office should enter into a family quarrel. A rather

distressing one, at that."

"Okay, Dean," I said, standing up. "I can see what you're driving at.

But I'm still not gonna kiss my father's ass so you can get a Barrett Hall

for the Law School."

As I turned to leave, I heard Dean Thompson mutter, "That's unfair."

I couldn't have agreed more.

 

 

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Эрик Сигл. История любви

Эрик Сигл История любви Chapter What can you say about a twenty five year old girl...

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Chapter 1
    What can you say about a twenty-five-year-old girl who died? That she was beautiful. And brilliant. That she loved Mozart and Bach. And the Beatles

CHAPTER 2
    Oliver Barrett IV Ipswich, Mass. Age 20 Major: Social Studies Dean's List: '6

CHAPTER 3
    I got hurt in the Cornell game. It was my own fault, really. At a heated juncture, I made the unfortunate error of referring to their center as a &

CHAPTER 4
    "Jenny's on the downstairs phone." This information was announced to me by the girl on bells, although I had not identified myself or my

CHAPTER 5
    I would like to say a word about our physical relationship. For a strangely long while there wasn't any. I mean, there wasn't anything more signifi

CHAPTER 6
    I love Ray Stratton. He may not be a genius or a great football player (kind of slow at the snap), but he was always a good roommate and loyal frie

CHAPTER 7
    Ipswich, Mass., is some forty minutes from the Mystic River Bridge, depending on the weather and how you drive. I have actually made it on occasion

CHAPTER 8
  "Jenny, it's not Secretary of State, after all!" We were finally driving back to Cambridge, thank God. "Still, Oliver, you could have been more enth

CHAPTER 9
  There remained the matter of Cranston, Rhode Island, a city slightly more to the south of Boston than Ipswich is to the north. After the debacle of introducing Jen

CHAPTER 11
  Jennifer was awarded her degree on Wednesday. All sorts of relatives from Cranston, Fall River-and even an aunt from Cleveland-flocked to Cambridge to attend the c

CHAPTER 12
    If a single word can describe our daily life during those first three years, it is "scrounge." Every waking moment we were concentrating on how

CHAPTER 13
  Mr. and Mrs. Oliver Barrett III request the pleasure of your company at a dinner in celebration of Mr. Barrett's sixtieth birthday Saturday,

CHAPTER 14
  It was July when the letter came. It had been forwarded from Cambridge to Dennis Port, so I guess I got the news a day or so late. I charged over to where Jenny wa

CHAPTER 15
    We finished in that order. I mean, Erwin, Bella and myself were the top three in the Law School graduating class. The time for triumph was at hand.

CHAPTER 16
    CHANGE OF ADDRESS From July 1,1967 Mr. and Mrs. Oliver Barrett IV 263 E

CHAPTER 17
    It is not all that easy to make a baby. I mean, there is a certain irony involved when guys who spend the first years of their sex lives preoccupie

CHAPTER 18
    I began to think about God. I mean, the notion of a Supreme Being existing somewhere began to creep into my private thoughts. Not because I wanted

CHAPTER 19
    Now at least I wasn't afraid to go home, I wasn't seared about "acting normal." We were once again sharing everything, even if it was the awful

CHAPTER 20
    It is impossible to drive from East Sixty-third Street, Manhattan, to Boston, Massachusetts, in less than three hours and twenty minutes. Believe m

CHAPTER 21
    The task of informing Phil Cavilleri fell to me. Who else? He did not go to pieces as I feared he might, but calmly closed the house in Cranston an

CHAPTER 22
    Phil Cavilleri was in the solarium, smoking his nth cigarette, when I appeared. "Phil?" I said softly. "Yeah?"

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