3.«May Day» by Scott Fitzgerald A young man came to the hotel and asked the room clerk if Mr. Philip Dean was registered there, and if so, could he be connected with Mr. Dean's rooms. The young man was Mr. Gordon Sterret. Soon the connection was made, and Gordon was invited. Philip Dean, dressed in blue silk pijamas, opened his door and the two young men greeted each other. Phil was surprised and glad to see Gordon. They were both about twenty-four, Yale university graduates. Gordon was dressed in a well-cut, shabby suit. He was small, slender, and darkly handsome. His eyes were framed with unusually long eyelashes and below with the blue semicircle that spoke of ill health. His face had an unnatural glow as if he had a low, incessantfever. Dean was blond, ruddy, and rugged under his thin pijamas. Everything about him radiated fitness and bodily comfort. He smiled frequently, showing large and prominent teeth. “Going to take a shower." he cried enthusiastically. He went to the bathroom and Gordon regarded the room nervously. There was a big English travelling bag in the corner, some silk shirts, littered on the chairs, neckties and soft woolen socks. Soon Dean appeared from the bathroom, polishing his body and put on fresh underwear, lit a cigarette and sat down by the open window. "Sit down, Gordy," he suggested, "and tell me all about you. Gordon sat on the bed; inert and spiritless. He looked helpless and pathetic. "What's the matter?" "I've gone to pieces, Phil. I'm all in." "I got back from France in February, went home for a month, and came down to New York to get a job with an export company, but they fired me yesterday. Doing exporting business is not for me. I always intended to draw. I’ve got a talent, Phil. I can draw. What I need is to go to art school and start drawing. I want to illustrate magazines. There’s a pile of money in it. I need some money to start. I want you to lend me three hundred dollars. Will you lend me?” “I can’t decide at once. That’s a lot of money and it will be inconvenient for me. When you could pay it back?” “As soon as I’ll sell any of my drawings. Maybe in three months.” "You put me in an awkward the position. It's no easy thing for me to give you three hundred dollars. My income is not so big.” On hearing these words Gordon’s head was splitting and whirring, his mouth was dry and bitter. Philip Dean took a five-dollar bill and tossed it over to Gordon, who folded it carefully and put it in his pocket. Before going out their eyes met and quite suddenly and definitely hated each other.