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- Великий Гэтсби
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A
man
named
Klipspringer
was
there
so
often
and
so
long
that
he
became
known
as
"
the
boarder
.
"
--
I
doubt
if
he
had
any
other
home
.
Of
theatrical
people
there
were
Gus
Waize
and
Horace
O'donavan
and
Lester
Meyer
and
George
Duckweed
and
Francis
Bull
.
Also
from
New
York
were
the
Chromes
and
the
Backhyssons
and
the
Dennickers
and
Russel
Betty
and
the
Corrigans
and
the
Kellehers
and
the
Dewars
and
the
Scullys
and
S.
W.
Belcher
and
the
Smirkes
and
the
young
Quinns
,
divorced
now
,
and
Henry
L.
Palmetto
,
who
killed
himself
by
jumping
in
front
of
a
subway
train
in
Times
Square
.
Benny
McClenahan
arrived
always
with
four
girls
.
They
were
never
quite
the
same
ones
in
physical
person
,
but
they
were
so
identical
one
with
another
that
it
inevitably
seemed
they
had
been
there
before
.
I
have
forgotten
their
names
--
Jaqueline
,
I
think
,
or
else
Consuela
,
or
Gloria
or
Judy
or
June
,
and
their
last
names
were
either
the
melodious
names
of
flowers
and
months
or
the
sterner
ones
of
the
great
American
capitalists
whose
cousins
,
if
pressed
,
they
would
confess
themselves
to
be
.
In
addition
to
all
these
I
can
remember
that
Faustina
O'Brien
came
there
at
least
once
and
the
Baedeker
girls
and
young
Brewer
,
who
had
his
nose
shot
off
in
the
war
,
and
Mr.
Albrucksburger
and
Miss
Haag
,
his
fiancee
,
and
Ardita
Fitz-Peters
and
Mr.
P.
Jewett
,
once
head
of
the
American
Legion
,
and
Miss
Claudia
Hip
,
with
a
man
reputed
to
be
her
chauffeur
,
and
a
prince
of
something
,
whom
we
called
Duke
,
and
whose
name
,
if
I
ever
knew
it
,
I
have
forgotten
.
All
these
people
came
to
Gatsby
's
house
in
the
summer
.
At
nine
o'clock
,
one
morning
late
in
July
,
Gatsby
's
gorgeous
car
lurched
up
the
rocky
drive
to
my
door
and
gave
out
a
burst
of
melody
from
its
three-noted
horn
.
It
was
the
first
time
he
had
called
on
me
,
though
I
had
gone
to
two
of
his
parties
,
mounted
in
his
hydroplane
,
and
,
at
his
urgent
invitation
,
made
frequent
use
of
his
beach
.
"
Good
morning
,
old
sport
.
You
're
having
lunch
with
me
to-day
and
I
thought
we
'd
ride
up
together
.
"
He
was
balancing
himself
on
the
dashboard
of
his
car
with
that
resourcefulness
of
movement
that
is
so
peculiarly
American
--
that
comes
,
I
suppose
,
with
the
absence
of
lifting
work
or
rigid
sitting
in
youth
and
,
even
more
,
with
the
formless
grace
of
our
nervous
,
sporadic
games
.
This
quality
was
continually
breaking
through
his
punctilious
manner
in
the
shape
of
restlessness
.
He
was
never
quite
still
;
there
was
always
a
tapping
foot
somewhere
or
the
impatient
opening
and
closing
of
a
hand
.
He
saw
me
looking
with
admiration
at
his
car
.
"
It
's
pretty
,
is
n't
it
,
old
sport
?
"
He
jumped
off
to
give
me
a
better
view
.
"
Have
n't
you
ever
seen
it
before
?
"
