Don't be so anxious about it,' she laughed. 'I'm not used to being loved. I wouldn't know what to do; I never got the trick of it.' She looked down at him, shy and fatigued. 'So here we are. I told you years ago that I had the makings of Cinderella.' He took her hand; she drew it back instinctively and then replaced it in his. 'Beg your pardon. Not even used to being touched. But I'm not afraid of you, if you stay quiet and don't move suddenly.
F. Scott FitzgeraldHe lifted his arms to the crystaline, radiant sky. "I know myself," he cried, "but that is all.
F. Scott FitzgeraldThe hangover became a part of the day as well allowed-for as the Spanish siesta.
F. Scott Fitzgerald