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    Forging Ahead
    Forging Ahead
    Forging Ahead
    Ebook27 pages23 minutes

    Forging Ahead

    By Francis Scott Fitzgerald

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    About this ebook

    Forging Ahead was written in the year 1929 by Francis Scott Fitzgerald. This book is one of the most popular novels of Francis Scott Fitzgerald, and has been translated into several other languages around the world.

    This book is published by Booklassic which brings young readers closer to classic literature globally.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBooklassic
    Release dateJul 7, 2015
    ISBN9789635220526
    Forging Ahead
    Author

    Francis Scott Fitzgerald

    Francis Scott Fitzgerald (Saint Paul, 1896-Hollywood, 1940) es considerado uno de los más importantes escritores estadounidenses del siglo XX y el portavoz de la generación perdida. El gran Gatsby se publicó por primera vez en 1925 y fue inmediatamente celebrada como una obra maestra por autores como T. S. Eliot, Gertrude Stein o Edith Wharton.

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      Book preview

      Forging Ahead - Francis Scott Fitzgerald

      Forging Ahead

      Francis Scott Fitzgerald

      Booklassic

      2015

      ISBN 978-963-522-052-6

      Basil Duke Lee and Riply Buckner, Jr., sat on the Lees' front steps in the regretful gold of a late summer afternoon. Inside the house the telephone sang out with mysterious promise.

      I thought you were going home, Basil said.

      I thought you were.

      I am.

      So am I.

      Well, why don't you go, then?

      Why don't you, then?

      I am.

      They laughed, ending with yawning gurgles that were not laughed out but sucked in. As the telephone rang again, Basil got to his feet.

      I've got to study trig before dinner.

      Are you honestly going to Yale this fall? demanded Riply skeptically.

      Yes.

      Everybody says you're foolish to go at sixteen.

      I'll be seventeen in September. So long. I'll call you up tonight.

      Basil heard his mother at the upstairs telephone and he was immediately aware of distress in her voice.

      Yes… . Isn't that awful, Everett! … Yes… . Oh-h my! After a minute he gathered that it was only the usual worry about business and went on into the kitchen for refreshments. Returning, he met his mother hurrying downstairs. She was blinking rapidly and her hat was on backward—characteristic testimony to her excitement.

      I've got to go over to your grandfather's.

      What's the matter, mother?

      Uncle Everett thinks we've lost a lot of money.

      How much? he asked, startled.

      Twenty-two thousand dollars apiece. But we're not sure.

      She went out.

      Twenty-two thousand dollars! he repeated in an awed whisper.

      His ideas of money were vague and somewhat debonair, but he had noticed that at family dinners the immemorial discussion as to whether the Third Street block would be sold to the railroads had given place to anxious talk of Western Public Utilities. At half-past six his mother telephoned for him to have his dinner, and with growing uneasiness

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