F. Scott Fitzgerald
Image Attribution: Gordon Bryant (Public domain)
Image Attribution: Gordon Bryant (Public domain)
"Ask Bounds," suggested Gloria feebly.
"Bounds!" he called.
Sprightly, sober—a voice from a world that it seemed in the past two days they had left forever, Bounds sprang in short steps down the hall and appeared in the half darkness of the door.
"What day, Bounds?"
"February the twenty-second, I think, sir."
"I mean day of the week."
"Tuesday, sir." "Thanks." After a pause: "Are you ready for breakfast, sir?"
"Yes, and Bounds, before you get it, will you make a pitcher of water, and set it here beside the bed? I’m a little thirsty."
"Yes, sir."
Bounds retreated in sober dignity down the hallway.
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