Великий Гэтсби

           "Hello!"Iinterruptedbreathlessly."Lookhere—thisisn’tMr.Gatsby.Mr.Gatsby’sdead."

           Therewasalongsilenceontheotherendofthewire,followedbyanexclamation...thenaquicksquawkastheconnectionwasbroken.

           IthinkitwasonthethirddaythatatelegramsignedHenryC.GatzarrivedfromatowninMinnesota.Itsaidonlythatthesenderwasleavingimmediatelyandtopostponethefuneraluntilhecame.

           ItwasGatsby’sfather,asolemnoldman,veryhelplessanddismayed,bundledupinalongcheapulsteragainstthewarmSeptemberday.Hiseyesleakedcontinuouslywithexcitement,andwhenItookthebagandumbrellafromhishandshebegantopullsoincessantlyathissparsegraybeardthatIhaddifficultyingettingoffhiscoat.Hewasonthepointofcollapse,soItookhimintothemusicroomandmadehimsitdownwhileIsentforsomethingtoeat.Buthewouldn’teat,andtheglassofmilkspilledfromhistremblinghand.

           "IsawitintheChicagonewspaper,"hesaid."ItwasallintheChicagonewspaper.Istartedrightaway."

           "Ididn’tknowhowtoreachyou."Hiseyes,seeingnothing,movedceaselesslyabouttheroom.

           "Itwasamadman,"hesaid."Hemusthavebeenmad."

           "Wouldn’tyoulikesomecoffee?"Iurgedhim.

           "Idon’twantanything.I’mallrightnow,Mr.——"