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- Великий Гэтсби
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- Стр. 38/165
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"
I
thought
you
knew
,
old
sport
.
I
'm
afraid
I
'm
not
a
very
good
host
.
"
He
smiled
understandingly
--
much
more
than
understandingly
.
It
was
one
of
those
rare
smiles
with
a
quality
of
eternal
reassurance
in
it
,
that
you
may
come
across
four
or
five
times
in
life
.
It
faced
--
or
seemed
to
face
--
the
whole
external
world
for
an
instant
,
and
then
concentrated
on
you
with
an
irresistible
prejudice
in
your
favor
.
It
understood
you
just
so
far
as
you
wanted
to
be
understood
,
believed
in
you
as
you
would
like
to
believe
in
yourself
,
and
assured
you
that
it
had
precisely
the
impression
of
you
that
,
at
your
best
,
you
hoped
to
convey
.
Precisely
at
that
point
it
vanished
--
and
I
was
looking
at
an
elegant
young
rough-neck
,
a
year
or
two
over
thirty
,
whose
elaborate
formality
of
speech
just
missed
being
absurd
.
Some
time
before
he
introduced
himself
I
'd
got
a
strong
impression
that
he
was
picking
his
words
with
care
.
Almost
at
the
moment
when
Mr.
Gatsby
identified
himself
,
a
butler
hurried
toward
him
with
the
information
that
Chicago
was
calling
him
on
the
wire
.
He
excused
himself
with
a
small
bow
that
included
each
of
us
in
turn
.
"
If
you
want
anything
just
ask
for
it
,
old
sport
,
"
he
urged
me
.
"
Excuse
me
.
I
will
rejoin
you
later
.
"
When
he
was
gone
I
turned
immediately
to
Jordan
--
constrained
to
assure
her
of
my
surprise
.
I
had
expected
that
Mr.
Gatsby
would
be
a
florid
and
corpulent
person
in
his
middle
years
.
"
Who
is
he
?
"
I
demanded
.
"
Do
you
know
?
"
"
He
's
just
a
man
named
Gatsby
.
"
"
Where
is
he
from
,
I
mean
?
And
what
does
he
do
?
"
"
Now
you
're
started
on
the
subject
,
"
she
answered
with
a
wan
smile
.
"
Well
,
he
told
me
once
he
was
an
Oxford
man
.
"
A
dim
background
started
to
take
shape
behind
him
,
but
at
her
next
remark
it
faded
away
.
