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- Великий Гэтсби
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"
Back
out
,
"
he
suggested
after
a
moment
.
"
Put
her
in
reverse
.
"
"
But
the
wheel
's
off
!
"
He
hesitated
.
"
No
harm
in
trying
,
"
he
said
.
The
caterwauling
horns
had
reached
a
crescendo
and
I
turned
away
and
cut
across
the
lawn
toward
home
.
I
glanced
back
once
.
A
wafer
of
a
moon
was
shining
over
Gatsby
's
house
,
making
the
night
fine
as
before
,
and
surviving
the
laughter
and
the
sound
of
his
still
glowing
garden
.
A
sudden
emptiness
seemed
to
flow
now
from
the
windows
and
the
great
doors
,
endowing
with
complete
isolation
the
figure
of
the
host
,
who
stood
on
the
porch
,
his
hand
up
in
a
formal
gesture
of
farewell
.
Reading
over
what
I
have
written
so
far
,
I
see
I
have
given
the
impression
that
the
events
of
three
nights
several
weeks
apart
were
all
that
absorbed
me
.
On
the
contrary
,
they
were
merely
casual
events
in
a
crowded
summer
,
and
,
until
much
later
,
they
absorbed
me
infinitely
less
than
my
personal
affairs
.
Most
of
the
time
I
worked
.
In
the
early
morning
the
sun
threw
my
shadow
westward
as
I
hurried
down
the
white
chasms
of
lower
New
York
to
the
Probity
Trust
.
I
knew
the
other
clerks
and
young
bond-salesmen
by
their
first
names
,
and
lunched
with
them
in
dark
,
crowded
restaurants
on
little
pig
sausages
and
mashed
potatoes
and
coffee
.
I
even
had
a
short
affair
with
a
girl
who
lived
in
Jersey
City
and
worked
in
the
accounting
department
,
but
her
brother
began
throwing
mean
looks
in
my
direction
,
so
when
she
went
on
her
vacation
in
July
I
let
it
blow
quietly
away
.
I
took
dinner
usually
at
the
Yale
Club
--
for
some
reason
it
was
the
gloomiest
event
of
my
day
--
and
then
I
went
up-stairs
to
the
library
and
studied
investments
and
securities
for
a
conscientious
hour
.
There
were
generally
a
few
rioters
around
,
but
they
never
came
into
the
library
,
so
it
was
a
good
place
to
work
.
After
that
,
if
the
night
was
mellow
,
I
strolled
down
Madison
Avenue
past
the
old
Murray
Hill
Hotel
,
and
over
33rd
Street
to
the
Pennsylvania
Station
.
I
began
to
like
New
York
,
the
racy
,
adventurous
feel
of
it
at
night
,
and
the
satisfaction
that
the
constant
flicker
of
men
and
women
and
machines
gives
to
the
restless
eye
.
I
liked
to
walk
up
Fifth
Avenue
and
pick
out
romantic
women
from
the
crowd
and
imagine
that
in
a
few
minutes
I
was
going
to
enter
into
their
lives
,
and
no
one
would
ever
know
or
disapprove
.
Sometimes
,
in
my
mind
,
I
followed
them
to
their
apartments
on
the
corners
of
hidden
streets
,
and
they
turned
and
smiled
back
at
me
before
they
faded
through
a
door
into
warm
darkness
.
At
the
enchanted
metropolitan
twilight
I
felt
a
haunting
loneliness
sometimes
,
and
felt
it
in
others
--
poor
young
clerks
who
loitered
in
front
of
windows
waiting
until
it
was
time
for
a
solitary
restaurant
dinner
--
young
clerks
in
the
dusk
,
wasting
the
most
poignant
moments
of
night
and
life
.
Again
at
eight
o'clock
,
when
the
dark
lanes
of
the
Forties
were
five
deep
with
throbbing
taxi-cabs
,
bound
for
the
theatre
district
,
I
felt
a
sinking
in
my
heart
.
Forms
leaned
together
in
the
taxis
as
they
waited
,
and
voices
sang
,
and
there
was
laughter
from
unheard
jokes
,
and
lighted
cigarettes
outlined
unintelligible
70
gestures
inside
.
Imagining
that
I
,
too
,
was
hurrying
toward
gayety
and
sharing
their
intimate
excitement
,
I
wished
them
well
.
For
a
while
I
lost
sight
of
Jordan
Baker
,
and
then
in
midsummer
I
found
her
again
.
At
first
I
was
flattered
to
go
places
with
her
,
because
she
was
a
golf
champion
,
and
every
one
knew
her
name
.
Then
it
was
something
more
.
I
was
n't
actually
in
love
,
but
I
felt
a
sort
of
tender
curiosity
.
The
bored
haughty
face
that
she
turned
to
the
world
concealed
something
--
most
affectations
conceal
something
eventually
,
even
though
they
do
n't
in
the
beginning
--
and
one
day
I
found
what
it
was
.
When
we
were
on
a
house-party
together
up
in
Warwick
,
she
left
a
borrowed
car
out
in
the
rain
with
the
top
down
,
and
then
lied
about
it
--
and
suddenly
I
remembered
the
story
about
her
that
had
eluded
me
that
night
at
Daisy
's
.
At
her
first
big
golf
tournament
there
was
a
row
that
nearly
reached
the
newspapers
--
a
suggestion
that
she
had
moved
her
ball
from
a
bad
lie
in
the
semi-final
round
.
The
thing
approached
the
proportions
of
a
scandal
--
then
died
away
.
A
caddy
retracted
his
statement
,
and
the
only
other
witness
admitted
that
he
might
have
been
mistaken
.
The
incident
and
the
name
had
remained
together
in
my
mind
.
