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- Великий Гэтсби
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- Стр. 39/165
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"
However
,
I
do
n't
believe
it
.
"
"
Why
not
?
"
"
I
do
n't
know
,
"
she
insisted
,
"
I
just
do
n't
think
he
went
there
.
"
Something
in
her
tone
reminded
me
of
the
other
girl
's
"
I
think
he
killed
a
man
,
"
and
had
the
effect
of
stimulating
my
curiosity
.
I
would
have
accepted
without
question
the
information
that
Gatsby
sprang
from
the
swamps
of
Louisiana
or
from
the
lower
East
Side
of
New
York
.
That
was
comprehensible
.
But
young
men
did
n't
--
at
least
in
my
provincial
inexperience
I
believed
they
did
n't
--
drift
coolly
out
of
nowhere
and
buy
a
palace
on
Long
Island
Sound
.
"
Anyhow
,
he
gives
large
parties
,
"
said
Jordan
,
changing
the
subject
with
an
urbane
distaste
for
the
concrete
.
"
And
I
like
large
parties
.
They
're
so
intimate
.
At
small
parties
there
is
n't
any
privacy
.
"
There
was
the
boom
of
a
bass
drum
,
and
the
voice
of
the
orchestra
leader
rang
out
suddenly
above
the
echolalia
of
the
garden
.
"
Ladies
and
gentlemen
,
"
he
cried
.
"
At
the
request
of
Mr.
Gatsby
we
are
going
to
play
for
you
Mr.
Vladimir
Tostoff
's
latest
work
,
which
attracted
so
much
attention
at
Carnegie
Hall
last
May
.
If
you
read
the
papers
,
you
know
there
was
a
big
sensation
.
"
He
smiled
with
jovial
condescension
,
and
added
:
"
Some
sensation
!
"
Whereupon
everybody
laughed
.
"
The
piece
is
known
,
"
he
concluded
lustily
,
"
as
Vladimir
Tostoff
's
Jazz
History
of
the
World
.
"
The
nature
of
Mr.
Tostoff
's
composition
eluded
me
,
because
just
as
it
began
my
eyes
fell
on
Gatsby
,
standing
alone
on
the
marble
steps
and
looking
from
one
group
to
another
with
approving
eyes
.
His
tanned
skin
was
drawn
attractively
tight
on
his
face
and
his
short
hair
looked
as
though
it
were
trimmed
every
day
.
I
could
see
nothing
sinister
about
him
.
I
wondered
if
the
fact
that
he
was
not
drinking
helped
to
set
him
off
from
his
guests
,
for
it
seemed
to
me
that
he
grew
more
correct
as
the
fraternal
hilarity
increased
.
When
the
Jazz
History
of
the
World
was
over
,
girls
were
putting
their
heads
on
men
's
shoulders
in
a
puppyish
,
convivial
way
,
girls
were
swooning
backward
playfully
into
men
's
arms
,
even
into
groups
,
knowing
that
some
one
would
arrest
their
falls
--
but
no
one
swooned
backward
on
Gatsby
,
and
no
French
bob
touched
Gatsby
's
shoulder
,
and
no
singing
quartets
were
formed
with
Gatsby
's
head
for
one
link
.
"
I
beg
your
pardon
.
"
Gatsby
's
butler
was
suddenly
standing
beside
us
.
