Великий Гэтсби

           Thenoutintothespringfields,whereayellowtrolleyracedthemforaminutewithpeopleinitwhomightoncehaveseenthepalemagicofherfacealongthecasualstreet.

           Thetrackcurvedandnowitwasgoingawayfromthesun,whichasitsanklower,seemedtospreaditselfinbenedictionoverthevanishingcitywhereshehaddrawnherbreath.Hestretchedouthishanddesperatelyasiftosnatchonlyawispofair,tosaveafragmentofthespotthatshehadmadelovelyforhim.Butitwasallgoingbytoofastnowforhisblurredeyesandheknewthathehadlostthatpartofit,thefreshestandthebest,forever.

           Itwasnineo’clockwhenwefinishedbreakfastandwentoutontheporch.Thenighthadmadeasharpdifferenceintheweatherandtherewasanautumnflavorintheair.Thegardener,thelastoneofGatsby’sformerservants,cametothefootofthesteps.

           "I’mgoingtodrainthepoolto-day,Mr.Gatsby.Leaves’llstartfallingprettysoon,andthenthere’salwaystroublewiththepipes."

           "Don’tdoitto-day,"Gatsbyanswered.Heturnedtomeapologetically."Youknow,oldsport,I’veneverusedthatpoolallsummer?"

           Ilookedatmywatchandstoodup.

           "Twelveminutestomytrain."

           Ididn’twanttogotothecity.Iwasn’tworthadecentstrokeofwork,butitwasmorethanthat—Ididn’twanttoleaveGatsby.Imissedthattrain,andthenanother,beforeIcouldgetmyselfaway.